


Spill Your Guts

by Reabees



Category: Creepypasta - Fandom, Marble Hornets
Genre: Angst, Blood and Gore, Canon Compliant, Character Death, Enemies to Lovers, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, Gore, Horror, Hurt/Comfort, Multi, Murder, Polyamory, Post-Canon, Romance, Slasher, Slow Burn, Thriller, Violence, tldr mh happened a few years before this fic, x Reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-18
Updated: 2020-11-16
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:22:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 58
Words: 496,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27084802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reabees/pseuds/Reabees
Summary: What was supposed to be a normal car ride with friends and acquaintances turns into manslaughter. You'd managed to cover it up well enough and go your separate ways for the better after graduating high school. Three years later, bones are found, a letter in the mail tells you to come home. In a cabin deep in the woods, away from society and the law, you were supposed to reconnect with people you used to know. You were supposed to discuss what to do next if the cops caught onto you. Things don't turn out the way you thought they would. The bloody past comes back to haunt you in the form of three masked psychos picking people off one by one. The only question you keep asking yourself is; Will you live to see the sunrise?----I don't own Masky, Hoodie, or Ticci Toby.  Heads up! These are not the canonical personalities of these characters. I know in cannon the Marble Hornets boys are not slashers! I'm paying homage to the fanfics I grew up on. This is what the cool kids consider a 'Dark' story. AKA it's not sweet and fluffy as they are portrayed as homicidal maniacs and not the popular much kinder fannon personalities from the mansion au. This is a really fucked up slow burn. Reader/Yn is portrayed as bi.
Relationships: Brian Thomas | Hoody/Reader, Brian Thomas | Hoody/You, Timothy "Tim" Wright | Masky/Reader, Timothy "Tim" Wright | Masky/You, Tobias Erin "Toby" Rogers | Ticci Toby/You, Tobias Erin "Toby" Rogers|Ticci Toby/Reader
Comments: 133
Kudos: 242





	1. Prologue - An Unfortunate Reunion

**Author's Note:**

> Hey there Ao3!  
> We want to be completely transparent and say that this fic is already completed. We are just uploading it here to get it to a wider audience. We'll be uploading about two chapters a day but if you can't wait the finished product is right here: https://www.quotev.com/story/12710266/Spill-Your-Guts-Proxies-X-Reader/1  
> One thing we'll say is that this fic is definately a product of it's time. It being our first fic together and all, the start is a little cringy. Also some there's some glaring grammatical errors and such but hey, look at what fandom we're in, I think some choppy writing and odd jokes are fine. We're very happy with where this story goes and it gets taken a lot more seriously as it goes on. For reference, the entirety of this story is about ~490,600K words if my math is correct.

(Y/n) - Your name

(L/n) - Last name

(H/c) - Hair color

(H/L) - Hair length

(S/c) - Skin Color 

(N/n) - Nickname

(E/c) - Eye color

(F/c) - Favorite Color

**Content Warning: This fic contains blood, gore, death, excessive swearing, torture, slasher movie vibes, crackhead energy, gay shit, stinky men, and big titties. This is your only warning. If that kind of content bothers you, please don't read this fic.**

**\----**

The road stretched on ahead, long and narrow. The roads were unpaved, uneven, and your already rickety 2008 Toyota Camry wasn't enjoying the excessive abuse on its tires. With caution you navigated around a pothole filled with muddy water. It wasn't the first and it wasn't going to be the last. Everything in your life leading up to this point felt like getting your foot stuck in pothole after pothole. Tripping over the mistakes of others but also your own negligence. Sometimes the line was too blurry to tell which was which. 

When the crumpled letter arrived in your mailbox all those days ago, you felt like the one haphazardly paved pothole in your life opened deep and narrow. The kind you get half your shin stuck in and end up falling so bad that you crack your bone and walk weird for a month. You can't go to a doctor. You and the other poor bastards stuck in your shitty group pothole are the only ones who should know about it. So you just have to walk with an ever persistent pain and wait for it to go away. There was no waiting for this to go away though. Not anytime soon.

The thing about a partially crushed human skull being found in a shallow grave is that people want to know why it's there in the first place. The law, the people in town, wannabe Reddit detectives, they all want to know, who died and why. Waiting for it to blow over is an option but a shitty one. You needed a plan if the law caught onto you and the others. Dan Baker sent out a letter to each and everyone of you. It was poorly worded and filled with plenty of grammatical imperfections but it got the point across. 

_**Come Home.** _

Come back to Tuscaloosa, Alabama. The town was a populated one for sure. Modern, normal, decently sized. It wasn't the towns fault it left such a sour taste on your tongue. It was the fact that on the back roads of your childhood town you'd crushed some poor son of a bitches skull with a rock. You didn't even know the kids name at the time. 

The 'Old Gang' as Dan called it was to meet in a cabin deep in the woods. It was supposedly some sort of 'get away from society' vacation spot. Before setting out on the long journey home, you looked up the place. There wasn't much on the place. All you knew is that it had enough space to house all of you and the 'Old Gang'. As well as what past visitors thought of the place from the three Yelp reviews. 

**_***** 5/14/14_ **

**_Beautiful woodlands and hiking trails you could explore for days!_ **

**_*** 3/9/17_ **

**_Great place. A nice little get away from it all. Occasional rolling blackouts and outdated tech. Who uses house phones anymore?? You get what you pay for I guess._ **

**_* 9/19/19_ **

**_If I could give 0 stars I would. Theres no fucjking wifi!1!! Best hope your data provider covers the area but dont get your hopes up. Theres nothing to do but look at trees n' shit. Therews only thrEE!! 3! THREe channels on the chunkiest TV ive ever fucking seen. I hope i never get my faaat asS dragegd out there again._ **

You'd just have to hope you'd have signal. Holding out hope was quite pointless as the cabin was in the middle of nowhere. The closest civilization being a dingy Dunkin' Doughnuts you'd picked up a grainy coffee from a hour prior. 

Your car slowed as you approached a partially rotted wooden sign. " _Ro swo d Lo ge 1 Mile ahe d"_ The sign read in faint yellow letters. It pointed towards a dirt path that didn't look well traveled. Weeds swayed lazily in the breeze and thin tree branches from above followed their slow and repetitive pattern. You weren't going to walk the uneven path for a mile, it'd take too long and when this little getaway was over you wanted to leave this place behind as quickly as possible. With a huff you slowly pulled your car onto the path. There was a cacophony of thuds and crunches as your car shifted back and forth on the uneven path. 

The path was fairly straight and you were grateful it wasn't windy or steep. You didn't know if your car could take that much abuse. She was already old and on her last legs. Sometimes she'd leak an unknown fluid and leave an iridescent puddle for you to marvel at in the mornings. Maybe you could convince Dan to have a look at your car, he was a wiz with the things. The man fixed a man-sized dent in his parents mini-van overnight, you were sure he could plug up the mystery leak. 

There'd been a growing pit in your stomach ever since you got the letter. Dread, fear, horror, regret, with a side of excitement. You hadn't seen these people since your high school graduation. Deep down, you knew all of you wished it'd stay that way. It was for the best. Although, seeing the familiar faces of those in the same partially sunken ship as you would be a bit cathartic. Playing catch-up won't be so bad. It's been roughly three years since you'd all seen one another. They've changed, so have you, you just hoped they'd changed for the better. Some of them weren't your favorite people in the world.

Alexis Harrison put Regina George to shame. She was a real mean girl. Sweet to your face but loved to spread rumors and shit talk to anyone who'd listen. You knew vaguely of her toxic home life. It didn't give her a free pass to be horrible but having a general explanation for why she was like that was comforting. It was good to know the evils of the world weren't random and had a reason behind them. She was still a mega bitch though. You wondered if she'd grown into a mature woman. Did she still dye her hair a new color every other week? Was she still awkwardly gangly and flat chested?

Pushing aside old resentments for Alexis from your mind, you marveled at the cabin that was slowly inching into view from behind the foliage. Creeping ever closer you noticed a few cars parked in the sorry excuse for a driveway. One was a large white van, the type kids used to joke about being kidnapped in. Another was a teal Chevy, with a few light dents peppered on its side. To the right of the Chevy was a Jeep caked in mud with massive wheels. You pulled your car carefully next to the jeep, it was even dirtier up close. 

Pulling the keys from the ignition and throwing them into your bag, you swung the car door open. Relief flooded your legs as for the first time in an hour as you got to stretch them out. As you contently sighed you took in the cabin. It was massive. Made of a dark wood you couldn't identify. The cabin seemed to have at least two floors, the second being rimmed by an outdoor walkway. Approaching the front door located on a cozy and modest front porch you caught the musk of wet dog. Scrunching your nose for a moment, trying to adjust yourself to the scent as you slowed your advance. 

"Well, here we are." You spoke to yourself, trying to play off the scent. You picked up the pace and hopped up the two front steps of the porch. You rose a fist to knock on the wooden door. Before you could the door screamed in disagreement as it was torn open. 

"(Y/n)!" A male voice boomed with a laugh. Before you could formulate a response you were pulled into a bone crushing hug by the large male. "It's good to see ya!" He released you from his tight grip before you could return the hug. Henry Martinez stood tall before you, a grin spread across his brown cheeks and a spark of mischief in his eyes. He'd gained weight since high school, that was obvious but other then that he looked practically the same. 

"Henry." You shot back a smile, not nearing the warmth of his, the situation made you feel tense, awkward and at a loss for words. 

"Come on in to our," He shuffled out of the door frame and into the cabin,"Oh so humble abode!" he said with a dramatic flair, partially bowing and rolling his arm towards in interior of the cabin. Back in high school he was always looking for ways to get people to laugh and smile, guess that didn't change.

You drunk in the sight of what you guessed was the living room with mild interest. Two medium sized brown couches faced one another and between them sat a black knee height coffee table. Across the room on a sturdy wooden shelf sat a chunky TV with two metal wires sitting atop its plastic frame. "Cozy." You murmured to nobody in particular.

"Come on!" Henry said while ushering you along. You past a carpeted set of stairs that you assumed would lead to your rooms. You both entered a dusty kitchen. 

Your eyes met with hers. Jennifer Baker, your closest friend in the world, before the incident that is. She used to have ratty dirty blonde hair that was always tied up into a tight ponytail atop her head, a back brace wrapped around her torso, silly bands and whatever colorful and childish jewelry she could get her hands on. Now she stood tall behind the kitchen island. Her hair was down, brushed, and chestnut brown. She looked like she was headed to pitch a revolutionary money making idea to a filthy rich backer. God, she's gorgeous. 

"Jennifer!" You barked with a bit too much enthusiasm for the tense air. You couldn't help it, you were the most excited to see her again. Although you knew it would be awkward.

She store at you a moment, drinking in your appearance, before a small smile adorned her thin lips,"It's Jen and you know it." She spoke with the familiarity that you show to a relative you only see on holidays. Friendly but distant. You left Henry's side and Jen made her way around the kitchen island. You pulled one another into a hug, back pats were exchanged before you pulled apart with a smile. 

"You look great," You complimented and looked back at a smiling Henry,"You both do."

"I know," Henry smiled,"You look," He looked you up and down with a look of contemplation across his face,"Hmmmm... Alright." He threw his voice up an octave as he spoke. 

Jen let out an amused huff,"If she looks just alright then you look like a homeless man."

"Then I'm the most fashionable homeless man you'd ever met." Henry grinned. A moment past, no one knew how to continue. Acting as old friends having a get together in the middle of the summer just for the hell of it was getting hard. The elephant in the room weigh heavy on all of your minds.

"Aha.. So, how've you-" You started but stopped as you herd heavy thuds from above you. The sound traveled closer and you could identify the sound of someone heading down the stairs. You shot a curious look to the empty doorway waiting for the fourth person to enter the room.

In walked in Micheal White or if you were still a childish highschooler you could call him Micheal Whitehead. Back then his entire body was covered with the things. He'd gained a hefty amount of weight and his skin was somewhat clearer. His face donned thickly rimmed glasses, a bulbous nose, and a uneven wispy mustache. He'd changed alright. 

"Hey Micheal," you forcibly chirped and approached him. You were quickly hit with the stench of his body odor with a hint of axe body spray that didn't seem to be working too well. "How've you been?" 

You outstretched your arms for a hug but he took a step back with a look of distaste upon his face. You let your arms fall limp at your sides. "If you must know," His voice was still just as nasally as it was all those years ago,"Absolutely horrible."

"Oh!" You weren't expecting such honesty so soon, you thought you'd get the pleasantries and small talk out of the way then talk about how much life sucks and the bones. 

"Oh come on, man," Henry spoke with his usual upbeat cadence but there was an edge of annoyance in his voice,"Lets' not get all doom and gloom so soon." Henry put a chubby hand on Michaels shoulder which he regarded with a curl of his lip. "We just got here, how 'bout we talk about," Henry hesitated a moment, choosing his words with care,"That.. After we catch up and everyone arrives."

Before Micheal could utter out a most likely rude reply the door swung open. "Hello!"A feminine voice called. The group filed out of the kitchen, Micheal lagging behind a bit with an unreadable look upon his face. 

Standing in the entrance of the cabin with a hand resting on her hip stood Alexis Harrison. Her hair strawberry blonde and her chest double D's. It was almost cartoonish how large her breasts were in proportion of her body. You forced your gaze away from her chest and into her eyes. She knew what everyones' eyes were drawn to and you could tell from the growing smile on her cheeks that she was shamelessly proud of her new assets. She'd always liked attention. 

"Alexis! It's nice to see that you've grown these past few years." Henry joked. 

"Ooh you!" She swung her hand up while she spoke. 

"Good to see you." Jen said with her lips pressed into a hard line. 

"Yeah!" You echoed with a bit more enthusiasm. 

"You look uh.." Micheal started eyes still on her breasts, no subtly at all,"You look good." He finished.

"Thaannnk yoooou! Oohhhh it is sooo gooooood to see ya'll again!" She jogged up to Henry and pulled him into a one armed hug. She quickly let go and one by one gave everyone a halfhearted hug. "You all look soooo good!" She said with a little gasp. "(Y/n) you have got to tell me where you got that top later, it looks absolutely adorable on you." A compliment from Alexis to you meant one of two things, either she was bettering you up to get on your good side for her personal gain, or she actually meant it. You hoped it was the latter. 

"Aha.. I just got it at-" You started looking down at your simple (F/c) windbreaker.

"OOOH and Jennifer! You look simply gorgeous." Alexis disregarded you, some things never change. Jens transformation was genuinely the most surprising and drastic, there was a partially unspoken agreement there. She had an air of importance and confidence about her now, you'd bet she was no longer the crybaby you knew her as. 

"Thank you." Jen spoke evenly,"Please call me Jen." She reminded the blonde.

"Jen, Jennifer, Tomayto, Tomahto," Alexis dismissed her, adjusting the strap of her purse,"So! Where are the rooms and is anyone willing to help me unpack." She clapped her hands together with a grin.

It was quiet for a moment before Micheal raised a sweaty palm,"I'll help."

"Great!" Alexis chirped,"Shall we?" She turned and swung the door open and padded out of the cabin, Micheal in tow. 

"My stuffs' still in my car," You spoke to no one in particular,"I'll be right back." You headed for the door, not before sparing a glance at Jen over your shoulder. She regarded you with an unreadable look, you hoped it was one of softness.

**\----**

Stuffing the last of your clothes into the wooden dresser, you let out a little sigh of relief. Unpacking had taken some time and the sun was starting to disappear over the forests horizon. Before you unpacked you'd changed into more casual attire that provided your body with a bit more warmth, the cabin looked cozy but it was drafty and you had a theory that the heating systems' busted. It was surprising that the cabin was cool in the first place, it was the middle of summer in Alabama. Maybe it was the area or global warming fucking up the weather. The windbreaker and shorts combo simply wasn't cutting it. You now donned a (F/c) and (Second F/c) checkered flannel, black leggings, fuzzy socks with little cartoon (favorite animal)s adorning them, covered up, for the most part, by comfortable (F/c) slip-ons. 

You checked yourself in the full-body mirror mounted on the wall next to the dresser. You ran a hand through you (H/c) locks for a moment, fixing a few stray hairs in the process. Feeling a bit more comfortable with yourself you hoped that it'll help with feeling more comfortable in your environment. A cabin in the woods, surrounded by people you used to know, only bound by a bloody mistake, not the best place to be.

The door to your room opened with a creak as you pushed it open and entered the barren hall. The smell of wet dog was still in the air, though you'd grown more used to it. Passing by the many closed doors, wooden doors on wooden walls that turned to glass overlooking the outdoor walkway. You stopped a moment to look at the forest surrounding the cabin. The thick evergreens swayed lazily in the breeze. You turned from the large window and made your way to the stairs.The sound of voices drew you towards the living room. As you descended the last few stairs the rooms occupants looked to you. 

"Ah (Y/n), finally come to join us," Henry patted the spot next to him on the couch,"Kind of amazing how Alexis was faster then you. I damn near taught she was moving in with all that luggage." Henry looked over at Alexis who sat legs crossed on the opposite couch, Micheal a few feet away, eyes glued to her form.

"It helps to be prepared for anything," Alexis said curling a loose strand of her hair on her index finger, she shot a glance Michaels way,"Thanks again for the help Mike." Her small smile shot pure dopamine into his veins. 

"Anytime." He mumbled. You turned your gaze away from the pair and onto Jen who stood beside your couch, her brow furrowed and lost in thought. 

Opening your mouth to start a pleasant yet awkward interaction with the brunette, you were stopped by the squealing of the front door and the thud of it colliding with the wall. In the entrance of the cabin stood Dan Baker. Taller, tanner, more muscular, donning a patchy 5 o'clock shadow, and deep brown bags beneath his eyes. He looked like a million bucks but also like a gutter rat at the same time. 

"He-" Henry started with a weak wave.

"Save it." Dan barked and marched into the living room, slamming the door shut behind him. He threw his luggage to the side and threw himself on the couch between Micheal and Alexis. Micheal shot him a dirty look. Alexis looked at him with raised brows and a puckered lip. In one of his hands he held a tan file with papers sticking out of it every which way. He slapped in onto the coffee table in front of him. "Lets' just cut the shit and talk about the bones." 

He flipped the file open and spread a few black and white photos across the table. The one your eyes instantly shot to was the crushed skull of Isaac Jenkins. You could still remember the sickening crack of his skull ringing in your ears, the grunts of effort from you, the gasps of those around you, the blood splattering across your face. You forced your eyes away and pushed the memories away, that was a different time, you were in shock, you weren't thinking straight. There were photos of the shallow grave he was found in.

You may have been stupid teenagers, kill a stranger stupid, but not stupid enough to bury the entire body and all the evidence together. That night you'd chopped up the poor boys body, everybody got a few pieces, then you went your separate ways to hide them across the state. You remembered it took you a week to think of a good hiding spot for the torso you wrapped in trash bags and kept in the trunk of your car. It was a stressful week to say the least. If they'd found a thigh bone, that'd be alarming to the group sure, but this was the skull. The body part with the most trauma to it and something that was sure to have the media all over it. 

"I fucked up by rushing the burial," Dan admitted, a rare occurrence back in the day, maybe he'd grown into a better man,"But we all fucked up so does it really matter?" There it is. 

"What are we supposed to do exactly?" Alexis turned towards him, hands gripping her knees, knuckles growing whiter by the second.

"We come up with a story if the cops find anything that can point towards us. We were careful enough but if they find more evidence we all might all get fucked." Dan spoke, his voice gruff, sounding like he'd been chain smoking since graduation. 

"How are they going to connect this to any of us. None of us even knew Isaac." Jen chimed in, allowing herself to sit on the couches armrest.

Henry pulled his lips into his mouth and sucked on them a moment,"I did." He admitted, running a chubby hand through his hair.

"WHAT!?" Dan slammed his hands on the table.

"Why didn't you tell us this, uh I dunno, four years ago, Henry?" Alexis tugged on a few strands of her hair, lips pressing into a line.

"You better be shitting me right now, Martinez!" Dan flew up from his seat, leaned over the coffee table and gabbed a fistful of Henrys' shirt. You scooted away from the pair with wide eyes. 

"I-I'm not I swear!" Henry held up his hands in surrender,"I didn't want to worry you guys anymore then was necessary at the time. No one even knew I dealt to Isaac. We all know he was a weird kid, a loner, no one talked to him! So I though to myself, what does an acquaintanceship matter, ya know?" Henry looked at you with pleading eyes.

You sucked on your bottom lip, debating if it was worth it to defend Henry against Dan. It was a small connection, but still, it was a huge liability if anyone ever caught glimpse of Henry dealing to Isaac. "Fucking ridiculous." Dan huffed, lips curled into an ugly snarl. He let Henry go reluctantly. Looks like you don't have to speak up after all. It was a bit of a relief, Dan was always scary when he was angry. You couldn't say no to him back then, you don't know if you have it in you even now. 

Jen put a hand on her older brothers shoulder with a look of concern. "Daniel, lets try to discuss this calmly. We won't get anywhere by yelling." She delivered the message with a softened tone.

He smacked her hand away with a frown. "Don't tell me what to do." He growled and threw himself back on the couch. 

With a glance towards Jen, you started,"She's right. We need to be levelheaded if we want to come up with a good plan." You weren't looking at her anymore but you hoped she was giving you a look of approval.

Dan just huffed and didn't speak. Everyone turned their attention towards the photos on the table. There wasn't much. The crushed skull and a few vertebrae caked in dirt. You saw the news a few days before you got the letter from Dan. It was found by a Father and son walking their dog. Their dog dug up the bones on accident actually. When the dog approached its owners with a skull lazily hanging beside its maw, holding onto the vertebrae, they were reasonably alarmed. It was unlucky the bones were found in the first place but it was lucky the dog slobbered all over the damn thing. Maybe the contamination would be of aid. You highly doubted any of your DNA would be on the skull. Maybe if it still had bits of flesh where your hands had touched it but any flesh was to be rotten away and eaten by worms at this point. That skull was in the ground for four years, it had to have been picked clean.

The real danger is that now police units were looking for bones in the area. You'd herd something along the lines of within a thirty mile radius they'd be combing for sometime. You knew that Micheal had hid the bones a few miles away from a major highway, that is defiantly within the search radius. If they were discovered it wouldn't be game over per say but the police would get confirmation that the body parts are scattered in a large area. Thus intensifying the search and expanding the search area. All the bones, maybe the murder weapon , and the tools used to crudely tear up his body told a story that could lead to your group. A story none of you wanted to see to fruition. 

"Any bright ideas?" Dan cut through the thick silence, looking at everyone of you with a questioning glare.

"Maybe Micheal should move his bones." You suggested, looking down at your hands and rubbing them together.

"No way." His nasally voice always annoyed you to a small extent, but whenever he was in a particularly sour mood it'd get impossibly nosier. He'd always speak with an air of irritating confidence and finality. 

"Why not?" Jen questioned. 

"What if the cops catch me in the act? Then what genius?" He extended his sweaty palms out and shrugged. He looked your way, he always had such a punch-able face. 

"Go at night maybe?" Henry suggested,"Maybe tonight even? The sooner the better." 

"He's right." You agreed, leaning forwards and resting your head on your palm. "The quicker we move the bones out of the cops path the better chance we have of them not discovering them."

"What if the cops are in the area tonight?" Micheal urged. 

"They probably won't be," Dan spoke up,"I've been keeping up with the investigation. Got a buddy in the force. They're checking a different area at the moment. Don't remember the exact details but we have give or take two days before the possibility of them checking that area comes up." He scratched at his jaw for a moment and yawned.

"We could head out tomorrow." Jen suggested, getting off of the couches arm rest. 

Watching Jen lift her arms above her head and stretch, you didn't see as Henry began to speak,"As much as I'd like to be safe as soon as possible, I've been driving all day and I could really use something to eat and a good nights sleep." He rose from his spot on the couch, leaving a large ass-shaped indent in his wake. 

Seemingly on cue, your stomach let out a loud grumble. Henry patted you on the shoulder with a laugh,"Ya feel me don't 'cha (N/n)?"

"Hah," You stood and met his friendly gaze,"Yeah, I could eat. Who's gonna cook though?" The answer was obvious but it still felt polite to ask. 

Jen let out a soft chuckle and made her way into the kitchen,"Do you even need to ask?" You followed her into the kitchen, not paying mind to the others. 

"So, what's for dinner?" You leaned partially on the kitchen island watching her open the fridge, eyeing the groceries you assumed she picked up. She'd always been the responsible type, you liked that about her. 

Jen hummed a moment, considering the contents of the fridge. The others in the living room made their excuses to go up to their rooms until the food was ready. You heard Micheal saying something about going outside to smoke. "Maybe BLTs? Or if you're feeling really nostalgic and lazy, like me," She closed the fridge and opened a pantry beside it,"Ramen." She pulled a orange package from the shelf and placed it on the counter.

"Sounds good to me." You said with a warm smile, you'd really missed her. You spared a glanced towards Micheal as he walked past the kitchen in the joined dining room. He swung open the sliding glass door to the back porch, flicking on the light before sliding it shut and disappearing from view.

The clatter of pots and pans shifted your attention back to Jen as she struggled pulling them down from the rack that hung above the island. With a smile you padded to her side, standing on your tip-toes, you reached up and grabbed onto a pot and pulled it from the hanging rack with ease. "What? How?" Jen questioned with a smile. She may look put together but she was still that silly kid underneath her business casual attire. 

"I have one of these in my apartment. I'm used to 'em." You spoke casually, turning from her and placed the pot in the sink. Twisting the knob and watching the rushing water that had a faint smell of rotten eggs fill the pot. You hummed quietly to yourself for a moment. Out of comfort and out of habit. This wouldn't last forever, being by her side again. Every time you thought about the circumstances and how short of a time you have together your stomach would feel like it was made on concrete. You hardly knew each other now but you held out a tiny hope in the coming month you'd grow close yet again. Reignite your long lost friendship and maybe pick up where you left off before the incident for a short time. The night before everything went to hell. The night when you rest your hands on her soft checks and pulled her close. The night when you held each other like the world was going to end. Her skin on yours, her touch, her smile, her lips.

"Apartment? Look at you having your shit together." Jen said with a laugh. 

"I wouldn't say that I have my shit together entirely. It's more like I have some of my shit together but some of it's still scattered to the winds." You turned off the water, and lifted the now much heavier pot from the sink with a grunt of effort. "Hey, turn on the stove would ya?" Jen let out an amused huff from her nose as she walked past you. She turned the plastic knob on the stove top with a few clicks and moved out of your way as you lumbered forwards. "What a relief..." You sighed as you placed the pot on the stove top. Stopping a moment to rub your back. 

"What have you been up to all these years, (Y/n)?" Jen asked as you stepped away from the stove. 

Rubbing the back of your neck and shifting your weight to your left leg, you opened your mouth,"Working at a diner as a waitress," You swayed back and forth as you spoke,"Working towards a degree in (Major) at my local Uni. You?"

Jen nodded a moment before speaking,"I've been working towards a degree in business. Working at a little startup company." Her attire practically screamed business major. 

The conversation allowed itself fall into a lull. You continued to sway back and forth while Jen idly looked at the pot on the stove. "I think Micheal brought alcohol," You shot your thumb over your shoulder towards the grey refrigerator,"We should set some out for everyone for when dinners ready. God knows that we all need a drink." 

With a shrug Jen said,"Alright." She swung the refrigerator door open and pulled a white box from the lower shelf. The cans inside clanked and rattled as she set the box on the granite counter top. Flipping the flaps of the box open she grabbed the top of a can before pausing,"Aren't you still underage?" She turned to you with an unsure look.

"Hardly! I'm twenty and my birthday is somewhat soon so...." You made grabby hands towards her,"Gimmie, gimmie. Also, it's not like any cops are here to stop us and I swear on my left boob that I'll drink responsibly." You finished, slapping a hand on your left breast and watched as a smile graced her cheeks.

"Just one kid." She past you a cool black and white can that read "(Favorite fruit) Blast". You smiled as you fidgeted with the tablet of the can, watching her pull out four more cans.

"You not gonna have one?" You asked, the hiss of carbon dioxide escaping the can filling the air. "And you're only like, a year older then me, don't call me a kid." You softly scolded with a false pout. This isn't as horribly awkward as you thought it'd be. Thank God.

"Tch." With a smile, Jen grabbed the four cans and made her way towards the dining room. You expected a quick-witted response, something along the lines that you'll always be a baby in her eyes but it didn't come. You expected at least a response to your question, you weren't given one. She looked towards the glass sliding door that Micheal disappeared from minutes before,"Hm, I wonder where he went." She spoke to herself. Nevermind.

With a inaudible sigh, you turned towards the now boiling water. "How many packets should we use?" You yelled, ripping open the orange package, taking note it was your favorite flavor. 

"Hmmm.." You herd her as she padded over to your side. Her soft hands entered your view, brushing past yours as she grabbed five packets. "This should do," She quickly tore them open and dumped them into the pot,"I can take care of it from here," you heart sank a bit as she dismissed you,"You know I make ramen better then you do." She commented seemingly sensing your disappointment, grabbing a wooden spoon from a woven basket next to the stove. 

"Alright, alright..." You didn't bother playfully rolling your eyes as she wasn't looking your way. You entered the dining room, pulling out a cushioned chair and throwing yourself into it. You looked to the porch, Micheal really had disappeared. Back in the day, it wasn't like him to go for walks in the wilderness, maybe he'd changed. He was the type to hardly leave his room unless it was for school, smoking with Henry, or buying the latest gore-fest video game. Seconds melted into minutes as you store out the window. There wasn't much of a view, just the rotting wood porch, a plastic lawn chair, and dirty glass table sat next to it. The sun had fully set by now the dim light from the porches light didn't cut through the darkness very much.

The sounds of footsteps filled the room as Jen worked quietly on the ramen. "Dinner almost ready?" You turned your gaze towards Henry, taking a sip of your sugary beverage. 

"Mhmm." Jen hummed as Henry entered the room, pulling out a seat across from you and sitting down. He grabbed on of the cans on the table and cracked it open.

"Who brought this?" Henry took a swift swig before setting the can down.

"Micheal." You responded, the clatter of dishes entering your ears.

Henry let out a short laugh,"Of course he's the guy that brings white claws to the murder meeting." Two sets of footsteps sounded from the direction of the stairs. Jen started setting bowls full of delicious looking ramen in front of each of the chairs. 

Dan threw himself into the chair next you, you found yourself shifting away from him in your chair. Alexis sat across from him with a smile, a soft pink smudge around her lips, hair a bit more matted then when you last saw it. They reunited their old high school romance quickly or well they probably were using each others bodies as a way to cope with their shitty situation, just like in high school. Either way, it's basically the same. You felt a pang of envy but it was a bit too early in your opinion to be fucking the stress away. Jen placed six forks upon the table and multiple hands shot towards them wordlessly. No one seemed to want to talk more then necessary tonight. Jen sat herself on the other side of you, sparing you a quick glance before turning her attention to the meal before her. You smiled at the short burst of attention, twirled some of then ramen on your fork before popping the noodles into your mouth. It tasted like 3 A.M in her kitchen, it tasted like laughing at dumb blondes in the slasher movies you both loved so much, it tasted like hints of paprika. It tasted like the bittersweet past.

You held in a content hum as you ate ravenously. You didn't eat much on the many hour trip to the cabin, it was catching up to you. Micheal still had yet to return for food. He was missing out on a perfectly good meal. He'd have to eat it cold or eat it after heating it up in the dingy microwave that would probably give it a weird aftertaste. 

Before any of you knew it, your bowls were partially clean. Residue from the ramen stuck to the sides of the bowls, dying them an off color orange. "I can take care of the dishes." You offered.

"No it's ok-" Jen started but stopped as the lights shut off.

"What the fuck?" Dan growled somewhere next to you.

"It's alright guys," You reassured,"I read on Yelp that this place has rolling blackouts. Nothing to worry about!" You were glad you read those reviews, when Dan got afraid, he got angry. An angry Dan was a scary Dan.

"Ah ok." Henry spoke through the darkness. He pulled his phone from his pocket and switched on the flashlight. "I can do this dishes by the way." He offered. 

"No really," You listened as Jen began, holding your bowl in your hands,"I can take care of them."

The lights flipped back on almost as quickly as they flipped off. There was a sign of relief from Alexis, you relaxed your shoulders as you made your way to the kitchen. Hellbent on doing at least your own dishes.

"(Y/n) seriously I can do them it's--" Jen started, annoyance lacing her tone. 

"H-hey guys." Henrys' voice was soft but his tone held a level of terror you'd never herd from him. You placed your bowl on the kitchen island and turned to him. It was silent. Everyones' eyes were glued to the sliding glass door. Alexis let out a few soft whimpers, Dans' lip curled into a snarl. Curious you slowly made your way back into the dining room. Passing their standing forms, you turned and saw what they were staring at.

On the plastic lawn chair sat Micheal. A rag tied tight around his head, arms behind his back and a dirty brown rope wound around his torso. He let out a few pathetic sobs that were partially drowned out by the rag. A thin trail of blood dribbled from his ginger locks down his sweat slicked face. Angry red marks peppered his face, you couldn't tell between the forming bruises and blood. On the center of his torso sat a yellow sticky note. In black ink sat a note in perfect cursive. 

**_'If you don't want him to die, await further instructions. Do not come outside.'_**

The group stared at the sight before them. The younger version of you would be sobbing on the ground already, curled into a ball. You'd grown over the four years since the incident though. So you used your latest coping mechanism, laughing and dropping a bad joke. With a few shaky laughs as your palms grew sweatier and your mouth grew drier, you opened your mouth to speak.

Beating you to the punch Dan launched his body towards the door. He gripped the sliding doors handle and spoke grimly,"Await further instructions my fat fucking ass."


	2. 1 - Going Tits Up

Henry threw himself forward, wrapping a chubby hand around Dan's wrist. The other gripping the door handle, pushing the door into its frame.

"What the fuck, Martinez?" Dan barked at the man, making an attempt to rip Henry's hand off his wrist.

"Are you illiterate or something?" Henry hissed, not letting go. 

Dan ripped his hand off of the door handle and shook off Henry's grip.

"Are you a fucking idiot or something?" He growled at the other man, he threw a hands towards Michael's tied up form,"He's probably fucking with us or something."

"Have you ever seen a horror movie?" Henry laughed in slight disbelief at the other mans foolishness. 

"For fucks sake!" Dan threw his hands above his head,"We're not in a fucking horror movie. Michael's always been a little fucker. I bet you're in on it," He pointed an accusatory finger towards Henry,"You both were always pulling stupid shit like this back in high school for laughs."

"It's not funny, Henry," Alexis chimed in, blonde brows furrowed and a hand resting casually on her hip, "We're supposed to be adults now or something. Mature?" She growled leaning forwards. "Tell Michael to wipe that fake blood off himself and stop playing pretend. We're not teenagers anymore."

Hearing Alexis of all people lecture somebody was a jarring sight. She'd never been one for authority and used to make fun of the teachers who'd bust her for smoking in the girls bathroom. Maybe her level of maturity grew with her breasts, you joked to yourself; a smile threatening to pull onto your lips that you didn't dare let show. 

Henry kept a hand on the door handle, looking defensively at Dan, the other was held up in a pseudo defense, "I swear," His voice dropped low and he looked Dan dead in the eyes,"This isn't a joke. We are actually in danger," He glanced towards Michael's quivering form, "I think."

"You think?" You asked, crossing your arms over your chest, swaying yourself soothingly back and forth.

"It could be some local teenagers messin' with us or somethin' ya'know?" Henry huffed, grip loosening on the door handle.

Dan's eyes were glued to the handle, he really wanted to open that door.

"What if it's not?" Jen rubbed her wrist, she sucked on her lips. With a wet hiss, she released her lips from the inside her mouth and began, "What if they know?" She practically whispered.

"That's impossible!" Dan began, you could see the sheen of a cold sweat on his tan skin. 

**_BBRRRRRRIIIIINNGG!!!_**

Everyone in the room seemed to jump out of their skin in a terrified unison. 

**_BBRRRRRRIIIIINNGG!!!_**

The red land line attached to the kitchen wall rattled as it rung. On it's own it wasn't such an ominous image but the circumstances made that phone seem like a one way ticket to your doom. 

**_BBRRRRRRIIIIINNGG!!!_**

Lips wear sealed, no one dare utter a word or whimper. Jen was the one to step forward; her light footsteps cutting through the silence that followed in between the landlines piercing calls. With a click as the phone was pulled from its mount, Jen gingerly held the phone a foot away from her face. A look of uncertainty on her features as nothing but a soft static white noise played over the line. You were the first to approach her, you heard the heavy footfalls of the two men behind you and Alexis' shaky breaths. In a tight knit semi-circle, you all leaned forward to listen to the white noise. 

"Ahaha," With brows furrowed and a frown twitching on your face, you mumbled,"Probably a wrong number."

_"Lets' just cut the shit and talk about the bones."_

Dan's gruff voice played from the phone receiver. A deep cold fear penetrated your soul. 

_Shuffle Shuffle._

" _I fucked up by rushing the burial."_

Your mouth involuntarily began to hang open. The group around you didn't dare speak.

_"But we all fucked up so does it really matter?"_

Dan's accusatory words cut through the group a second time. Dan's own words only seemed to anger him as he snarled and curled his hands into tight fists.

_"What are we supposed to do exactly?"_

Alexis' voice popped into the grainy audio. Her snotty tone slapping her in the face as it was thrown back at her.

_"We come up with a story if the cops find anything that can point towards us. We were careful enough but if they find more evidence we all might all get fucked."_

**_Click._**

**_Brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr._ **

The phone let out a droning sound. There was no one on the other end anymore. The sound resonated off the kitchens walls. Your gut felt like it was falling six stories down. 

Trying to formulate your incoherent thoughts into words, you opened and shut your mouth over and over. No words came.

"What the fu-fuck?" Glancing over at Henry, you saw he was shaking, eyes bulging from his head. 

Jen whipped out her phone from her shirt's breast pocket. Dan's hand ripped it from her hands. "No."

"What?" Jen reached for her phone, desperation lacing her tone.

Holding the phone behind him, Dan informed the group,"If you haven't fucking forgotten, we killed somebody. Someone knows." Jen threw her body onto Dan's, he held the phone higher and reached his arm further back,"We can't call the fucking cops."

"We are in fucking danger, Daniel!" Jen hissed, clawing at the arm that held her phone out of reach. 

"The cops are more of a danger to all of us over some punk ass kids!" Dan lectured.

"You think this is being done to us by some teens looking to have a good time?" Henry questioned with a raised brow, disbelief written all over his face. "We need the police."

Then it clicked. "We can't call the cops because even if they do come and help, the investigation and follow up could take up the little time we have left to move Michael's bones." You realized aloud. 

Dan pushed his sister off of him harshly, she stumbled back.

He pointed a thick finger your way, "Bingo."

"This is if the cops get to us on time," Alexis gawked on her acrylics, tearing the neon paint from her long nails, "Whoever's doing this might want revenge." 

_"_ We'll still need help if that's the case," Henry began, tapping his chin with a shaky hand, "We'll need to get out of here on our own. One of us can move the bones while the others go to the cops or something." He thought out his ill conceived and patchy plan aloud.

"They have a recording of our conversation! They could send it to the cops and ruin us!!" Alexis screeched, her now uneven nails digging into her scalp.

"One of us gets the bones while the others get help or maybe we don't go to the cops at all," Jen's hand had a slight shake to them, but her voice was even. "I doubt the police can use the recording as real evidence anyway. Illegally obtained evidence and all that." She rubbed her fingers together idly, "We could just play it off as one of those role playing games. What was the game you and Michael played back in middle school?" Jen turned to Henry,"Dungeons and doorknobs?"

"Hah!" Henry forced out a laugh,"Close enough." He didn't feel like correcting her. He shifted his weight to his right leg and turned towards the dining room,"What about him?" Ah, the elephant outside of the room.

"I say we get him," You let out a sharp exhale, "Untie him, make sure he's OK to run, then we make a break for the cars." You turned towards the dining room, walking forward a bit. Micheal still sat tied to the lawn chair; his eyes bulging out of his head while looking your way. You couldn't imagine how terrified he must be. 

Jen let out a shaky breath. Henry gave her a firm pat on the shoulder. Alexis released her scalp from her vice-like grip, dandruff stuck under her broken nails. Dan took the first step forwards with a glance your way. You trailed behind him towards the door. You suggested getting Micheal, you might as well aid in retrieving him. 

You gripped the door handle, looking back at Dan who seemed to be preparing to run for Micheal. Behind him stood a wary looking Alexis. Overlooking her, your eyes met with Dan's, he nodded.

Stepping out of his path, you tore the door open with all your might. The door slid open with a dull roar. The second the door was completely open, Dan bolted onto the back porch. He grabbed the back of the lawn chair, tilting Micheal and the chair forward as he began to drag the tied down man backwards towards safety. With a grunt, Dan pulled Micheal over the threshold of the house. With a final pull, Micheal was fully pulled into the house. Dan let him and the chair fall to the floor, stepping to the side a bit with a huff.

_**BANG!**_

Something whizzed past Dan's form before you could shut the door.

"GAAAAAAHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!"

A piercing shriek filled your ears as you slid the door shut hurriedly. You turned towards the source; Alexis screaming amongst Dan, and the bloody Micheal on the floor. _"MY FUCKING TIT!"_

"Stop shitting around (L/N)! Haul ass!" Dan shouted at your stunned form. You sprung into action with him, the male grabbing Alexis who was clutching her chest. You grabbed the back of the lawn chair and began tugging Micheal away from the glass door. Partially in the kitchen, you stopped heaving the chair and turned towards Henry and Jen, holding out your hand. Scrambling, Henry tore through the kitchen, opening drawer after drawer looking for something, anything, to cut Michael's binds. 

"JESUS FUCKING CHRIST! MY FUCKING TIT! OH MY GOD!" Alexis sobbed, two hands pressed onto her right breast.

Deep red seeping through her blouse mixing partially with a clear jelly that was escaping from her wound and through her fingers. "WHAT THE FUCK! IT HURTS! IT FUCKING HURTS!" Her face was red and contorted in on itself as fat tears spilled from her eyes.

Henry ran over to your kneeling form. Shoving a knife, blade turned away from you, in your face. You snatched it from his sweaty palm and turned your attention towards Michael's bonds. Alexis continued to sob, words growing incoherent. Dan shouted something at Jen about getting something to help the sobbing blonde. You paid no mind as you pulled on a section of the rope and behind vigorously sawing through them. The tightness of the bonds began to loosen as you cut through rope after rope. Michael wiggled as you placed the knife on the ground. You tore the severed ropes from him as he began to push himself out of the chair. A chubby hand tugging and pulling on the knot on the back of his head. You passed him the knife and looked away from his quivering form as he worked. 

"There's a first aid kit!" Jen barked, tearing the white and red box from the top self of one of the many, mostly empty, cupboards. 

"Does anyone know how to use it?!" You looked around at your fearful company. 

There was a beat of nothing but Alexis' crying before Jen spoke again,"Guess not but I'll do my best."

She rushed to the blondes side and knelt down,"Take off your shirt." Jen softly commanded, trying to sound as caring as possible, like the blonde was a skittish cat. 

Alexis quickly nodded, loudly sniffling,"Dan help me out." She whimpered. Understandable on her part, moving herself probably hurt like hell.

"Michael, knife!" Dan's gaze shot towards the newly freed man who sat dazed on the floor.

Micheal just stared at him. "Fucks sake, White!" Launching himself forwards, Dan yanked the knife from Michael's hand. Now behind Alexis, Dan knelt and grabbed the back of her blouse. The sound of tearing fabric mixed with the blondes sobbing. Once the fabric on her back was separated, Dan pushed it off her shoulders and down her arms until the bloody shirt was off her torso. 

Shirtless and with a bra that didn't cover much, you saw the bloody wound on her chest. Her right breast had a messy circular hole that was quickly leaking blood and oozing an unidentifiable clear substance that glistened under the kitchen light. She'd been shot in the boob, that was clear enough. She was luckier then she thought. If she were still a flat chested teen without huge breast implants the bullet probably would have killed her.

If she wasn't dying already. You supposed, with what basic medical knowledge at your disposal, that the bullet was lodged somewhere in her implant. It saved her life. 

Whimpering as Jen approached her with the open box, Alexis quieted her crying. The initial shock of being shot in the tit slowly wearing off.

"I'll do my best." Jen reassured the blonde as she read the labels of several items in the first aid kit. "I think I have to clean the wound with this?" She held up a little bottle of hydrogen peroxide, not sounding very sure. "Henry," She called to the male without looking away from Alexis,"Get a washcloth and," She paused a moment to read the recommended steps on the bottle,"Run it under cold water, then give it to me."

Obliging wordlessly, Henry snatched a handful of paper towels from the roll that sat idly near the kitchen sink. The sound of running water filled the room as he waited for it to grow cold enough.

"Michael," You turned to the man, "What the hell happened out there?" Henry ran his hand through the water a few times, little splashes entering your ears as Michael's gaze slowly locked onto you.

There was a second of tense silence before Micheal shakily responded, "A-after I went for a smoke," He began, looking away from you and towards his sweaty hands, "I walked a bit into the woods, to g-get away from you bitter fucks!" he spat venomously, not looking away from his hands. "Then, t-t-this masked fuck," he was crying, "Came outta nowhere, I told him to bother somebo-body else. He had a fuckin' crowbar. He chased me. I tried going back to the house ya'know?" He looked at the sliding glass door,"But there was another one, something w-w-wasn't right about 'im. He was twitchin' n' s-shit. He had a fucking axe or something! Two of 'em actually!" Michael shook his head.

Henry turned the water off, eyes on the whimpering man as he passed Jen the wet paper towels. Taking the paper towels, Jen turned towards Alexis,"This is going to hurt." She informed, inching the wet paper towels towards the blondes torn flesh.

"The axe one ran at me. Made sure I couldn't get back to the-the house, was always in the way. Threatening me with his little fuckin' axes." Micheal paid no mind to the scene playing out before him.

Gently as she could possibly be with her shaking hands, Jen dabbed the cold water on Alexis' wound. Reflexively the blonde trashed about, pulling away from the paper towel with a shout,"FUCK!"

"Stay still or it'll hurt worse." Dan grumbled, uncharacteristically softly. He gripped her bare shoulders softly and gave a quick affirming squeeze. He cared about her even after all these years. "Jennifer, do it." 

As Jen hesitated, Michael continued, his gaze shifting back towards you,"The crowbar one caught up with me. Hit me real bad.." He trailed off, giving you an expectant look. You were confused a moment before it clicked, he wanted an ice pack for his head wound. Everyone was so concentrated on Alexis' slowly flattening tit that no one had even bothered to look after him.

Getting up and making your way to the freezer, Jen continued.

"Shit, shit, shit!" Alexis hissed as you pulled the freezer open. A colorful box boasted about the many flavors of popsicles it housed, a bag of mixed vegetables, and an empty ice tray sat on the mostly barren shelves. The logical part of your brain wanted to grab the bag of vegetables, it was more suited for the situation but the box of Popsicles called to you. It wasn't as practical but the situation was grim, a cold object was a cold object and maybe it'd lighten the mood just a bit. You pulled the colorful box from the freezer, turned on your heel, and made your way towards Michael.

"Please," you let out a little grunt of effort as you tore the box open, "Continue."

He sighed, looking unamused,"I think I blacked out or something," You passed him a large Popsicle, wrapped in orange and pink plastic, mumbling as he took it, "Thanks, (Y/n)." 

He put the cold treat on his head, hissed, and recoiled away from it for a moment before sucking in his bottom lip and forcing the Popsicle back onto his head.

"Okaaaayyy, uhhmm," Jen pulled the wet paper towel from the hole in Alexis' chest,"This is going to burn. Daniel," The brunette huffed, looking at her older brother,"Hold her still."

With a curt nod, Dan pressed his chest to Alexis' back and strengthened his grip on her shoulders. Jen ripped a clean bit of paper towel from the mostly bloody lump. Unscrewing the bottle, keeping the cap between her fingers, she dabbed a bit of the liquid onto the paper towel. Haphazardly screwing the cap back on, you could see her hands shaking as she placed the bottle on the floor. Jen advanced the towel towards the quivering blonde, her brow furrowed. Jen quickly dabbed the wound multiple times. Alexis pushed into Dans chest, letting out sharp cries of pain. "JESUS FUCK! STOP! STOP!" Alexis started to weakly kick at the brunette.

"Alexis," Dan breathed into her ear, her watery eyes met his,"Stop. She's helping you." 

Ceasing her activity, she sniffled,"O-okay."

"As I was saying," Micheal interrupted the tender moment with a look of disdain,"I was attacked by two masked psychos in the woods," Henry gave Micheal a disapproving glare that he didn't see,"I blacked out. Woke up tied to a chair." 

"Okay and?" Dan growled at the man as Jen dabbed the woman's wound a few more times,"Did you get a good look at them? Anyone we know? Anyone Isaac knew?"

"Isaac didn't have any friends dumbass." Micheal snottily corrected. Watching the scene unfold, you reached your hand into the box still in your hands. You pulled out a (Favorite Flavor) Popsicle and set the box on the kitchen island. "They were wearings masks anyway," Micheal looked your way, hearing you trying, and failing, to quietly unwrap the popsicle,"One was black and white, covered his whole face. Other was wearing googles and some face mask thing. That's all I saw." 

Dan grunted in reply,"Jennifer, are you almost done?" He asked, voice dropping its sharp edge. 

The woman let out a sigh,"Yeah," She pulled the bloody rag from Alexis' wound,"I don't think any of us know how to stitch it closed. I'm gonna try to wrap it up to the best of my ability." The bullet hole in the woman's partially deflated right breast looked horrible from what little you saw of it. If you were to guess, it'd be that the hole was an inch in diameter. You couldn't guess how deep the thing was but it _probably_ didn't hit anything vital, it just hurt like hell. Seeing your old acquaintance, or if you're being less generous, high school bully with a bullet lodged in her tit almost made you lose your still ravenous appetite. Almost. 

Not bothering to look for the trash can, you stuffed the wrapper of the popsicle into its box. "Really, (L/n)?" Hearing the noise, Dan turned his attention towards you,"A fucking popsicle? Now?" 

Your brows raised and you gave him a sheepish smile,"It's helping me cope." You admitted shakily before putting it in your mouth. You took a moment to savor the flavor before popping it out of your mouth and pointing it at him,"We all have our vices."

He rolled his eyes at you, a smile ghosting on his lips, "Whatever." You put the treat back in your mouth, letting it rest on your tongue. Watching as Jen grabbed gauze and thick bandages from the med kit. She looked back at forth at the two options before putting the gauze down.

Jen tore the wrapper off of the bandages, "Henry, more paper towels." She held her spare hand behind her, expectantly. 

Henry shuffled away from the trio, passed you and Michael, and ripped more sheets from the roll. He quickly padded back to Jen's side and passed them to her. She wiped away the fresh blood that had bubbled from the wound over the past few minutes. One hand pressed the paper towel hard into the blondes wound as the other came forward, clutching a thick bandage. Jen removed the bloodied rag from Alexis' chest. Before more blood could leak from the hole, the bandage was pressed onto the wound. Hissing in pain, Alexis recoiled back slightly. Dans hard chest bringing her reassurance. Patting around the edges of the bandage so it'd be fully stuck onto the blondes skin, Jen let out a hum. "There."

You sucked on the popsicle, leaning forward on the kitchen island. You appeared casual but on the inside alarm bells were screaming. Jokes, playing things off, trying to keep a clear head, laughter, that was how you rolled with the stresses of life now. You'd have a good cry later when your life wasn't in danger. Crying in the moment was a tempting offer though. 

Dan's grip loosened around Alexis' shoulders. With a sigh, he stood, ran a hand through his hair and grumbled, "What now?" 

"I say we send someone outside. Check if they didn't slash our tires or something cliche like that. Also, if the coast is clear, ya'know?" Michael suggested, rubbing the popsicle on his head. You glanced his way, sucking on your own. Poor guy probably had a concussion.

"Go outside?" Alexis let out a nasty laugh, "With the little fucker that shot my tit? Fat fucking chance!" 

"I mean someone who isn't injured." Micheal insisted. 

"So me, (Y/n), Jen, or Dan?" Henry said what everyone was thinking. 

"Yeah." Michael huffed out. 

"We can draw straws," Jen started, standing from her spot before Alexis, "Cut one short. Whoever draws it goes out and checks on the car. Maybe start it if the coast is clear so we can all run to the car. Get out of here, drop someone off at the highway to grab the bones, go to the hospital."

Pulling the sweet from your mouth and resting your head on your hand, you began,"What does the person who gets the bones do once they got the bones? Wait for pickup? Walk home?" It wasn't supposed to sound as snarky as it came out.

"We'll figure it out when we get there." Jen said simply as she began rifling through the kitchen drawers. 

You hummed, biting off a piece of the popsicle and chewing on it. It sent a shiver down your spine and a little brain freeze began to take form. 

Pulling a plastic bag filled with white straws with a red stripe adorning the side of each one, Jen huffed. She put the top of the bag in between her teeth and tore the bag open. She presented four straws from the bag,"Knife."

Dan grabbed the knife from the floor, moved to his sisters side, and presented it to her. "Thanks." Knife in hand, a look of contemplation on her face as she cut a single straw in half. "Michael, hold these." Jen ordered the man as she made her way towards him.

"Alright." Michael took the four straws in hand.

"Everyone who's uninjured, look away. Micheal, shuffle the straws." You turned your head from the man, the pit in your stomach growing heavier. 

"Done." Michael's nasally voice cut through. "Grab one." Here goes.

You screwed your eyes shut as you leaned towards the man, outstretching a hand. A hand brushed against yours, Jens or Henrys, it was soft. You pulled back a moment to let the other hand grab a straw. After the short beat, you wrapped your fingers around a straw. With a sharp inhale you ripped the straw from Michael's grip. You held it before your face but didn't dare open your eyes to see the result.

"Every ones' got one." Micheal informed the participants of the drawing. 

You hesitated a moment before opening your eyes to see a completely normal straw before your eyes. Your eyes flickered over to Jen, hers was also normal. Dan held a normal straw as well, face unreadable. Henry looked at the short straw held in his chubby fingers.

A wave of sympathy washed over you for the man, you two were never very close friends back in the day, but you had a hunch that these days he's an upstanding guy. Not that you didn't feel bad for Michael or Alexis, but the look of sheer dread and terror on Henry's face was just a slap in the face from reality. Grasping the situation at hand was a difficult task. You were starting to accept that you were all in a scenario straight out of a slasher movie. He wasn't even hurt but he knew he could be or much, much worse. The thought of him possibly dying wasn't a pleasant one. You pushed it away.

Breathing shakily in and out, "Al-alright. I can do this!" Henry forced a determined smile across his face. "'N plus! I got a jeep! Best kinda car for this kinda terrain! We'll be out of here before ya know it!" His eyes didn't hold the same sentiment. The way his brows were held low, there wasn't gleam of mischief in his eyes anymore, the exhaustion from the long trip to the cabin was shown off by his deep eye bags. He looked like shit. 

Leaving Alexis and Micheal behind to rest on the ground, the four of you made your way into the living room. There sat the front door. A few feet away a window framed by two white curtains. Fishing his keys from his pocket, Henry let out a few shaky breaths as he approached the door. With his hand resting on the doors handle, he looked back at you with a grin, "I'll be right back."

Without thinking, you spoke, "Don't say that! Haven't you seen a horror movie before?" You recalled him mentioning the situation being like one earlier, "Famous last words." You warned.

"Hah!" He waved a hand your way,"If these are my last words, _If,_ " He urged a desperate gleam in his eyes, "Then, take care of each other." He gave you all a genuine smile, "Also, if I die that just proves I'm the funniest one out of all you hoes. Funniest one always dies first!" He let out a dry laugh, turned towards the door and opened it. 

You couldn't fucking believe that guy sometimes. 

Rushing over to the window, you gripped the wooden frame, swallowing a lump in your throat. You popped the popsicle into your mouth and sucked on it anxiously, much like a baby with its pacifier. The front porches light shone brightly through the darkness. It illuminated Henry's retreating form as he rushed towards his Jeep. 

Pressing the button on his keys, Henry herd the familiar click of his car doors unlocking. He paid no mind to the cars he past, eyes on the prize. He tore the car door open and threw his body into the vehicle; ramming the keys into the ignition and twisting the keys. A purr crescendoed from the engine, a wide smile found its way onto Henry's features. Then it stopped, his expression falling with it.

"No, no, no, no." He repeated as he tried the ignition again. The car roared a moment before falling silent. Again. Nothing. 

Henry jumped from the car, not bothering to shut the door behind him. He tore open the hood of his Jeep. He was met with his worst nightmare, his sweet babies engine was smashed.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck." He breathed out, a hand coming up to his forehead. Without another thought he ran to the car next to his and popped its hood. Engine smashed as well.

"Oh God." He leaned around the cars hood to get a look at the tires. Pulling his phone from his pocket and switching on the light, he was greeted with the sight of the cars severely slashed tires. They looked like they'd been through a paper shredder. He broke into a sprint, passing his busted Jeep. Swinging open the next cars hood he found a now familiar sight.

As he quickly made his way to the teal chevy that was next in line, he flicked the flashlight towards the tires of the car he previously checked. Tires slashed. The Chevy's engine was busted as well. There were only a few cars left and his gut was telling him he'd have no luck. He'd best cut his losses and get back inside before whoever messed up the cars found him. He wasn't too far from the front porch, he could make it. He just had to. He saw his three companions in the window, faces pressed against the glass. 

As Henry looked your way, you saw something, no, someone, emerge from behind the cars. You slammed your fist against the glass and screamed, popsicle still in your mouth so your words came out muffled,"HENRY!" Seeing your distress, he didn't even need to look behind him. Henry began to bolt towards the door as a dark figure ran around the cars and towards Henry. He was so close to the front porch now, you could see the sheen of sweat coating his dark skin. He stopped.

"MARTINEZ, WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?" Dan smashed a fist onto the glass. Henry stumbled forwards a bit, eyes bulging from their sockets. The figure behind him slowed to a walk as another emerged from the treeline. As Henry fell to his knees, the first figure became more visible. A man. Big. Tan jacket. Black and white mask, feminine. Swinging a crowbar lazily at his side as he approached Henry. You felt sick to your stomach.

"HENRY!!! BEHIND YOU!" Jen slammed her palm on the glass. None of you could look away.

"What's going on over there?" Alexis dragged herself into the living room, clutching her chest. No one paid her any mind, all too preoccupied by the train wreck happening just in front of them. 

It wasn't until Henry fell onto his belly that you understood why he stopped. Lodged deep into his back was a hatchet. Blood staining his shirt around the hatchet. Henry's hand shot forward and he began to pathetically pull his body forward. He hardly even moved. 

A loud boyish laugh, muffled by the glass separating you from the figure that emitted it,"BULLSEY-EYE!"

The second figure entered your view, moving faster then his lax counterpart. He donned orange google and some sort of face mask that you couldn't fully make out. He rolled back his right arm a few times, continuing his advance. He stood tall over Henry's quivering frame, you could make out a laugh. He bent down, gripped the handle of his hatchet then violently ripped the weapon from Henry's back. He screamed. You could do nothing but watch as he writhed under the boy's gaze.

Ignoring the mans screams of agony, the goggled man stood back at his full height. He caught your horrified gaze, jerked his head to the side, and waved daintily. Your mouth dropped open, the popsicle slipping past your lips and splattering on the floor. Seeing this, the man seemed to laugh at you, shoulders bouncing violently as he continued to stare. 

Now at his companions side, the one with the feminine mask rose his crowbar. Dan tore himself from the window and made his way to the door. Jen flew after him, pulling him away from the wooden barrier with all her might. "They'll kill you too!" She cried.

"They'll fucking kill Henry if we don't do something!" Dan roared, trying to shake his sisters grip.

Hearing the commotion, the one with the feminine mask turned his gaze to your form, alone in the window. Without any fanfare he slammed his crowbar onto the still screaming Henry's skull. The blow shut him up but not completely as he was quietly crying beneath his attackers. Mask still turned towards you, he rose his crowbar again and brought it down with more force then before. You could almost hear the sickly crack of Henry's skull; blood spraying onto the man's mask, his gaze still holding yours. Henry had fallen silent. The man rose his crowbar again, eyes boring into you as he slammed the metal into Henry's skull for the third time. He did it again. Then another time. The back of Henry's skull beginning to cave. Guess he was the funniest.

You finally tore yourself away from the window like it had burnt you. Your hands flew for the still struggling Dan, "STOP!" You screamed in his face, "HE'S FUCKING DEAD! WE CAN'T DO ANYTHING! JUST STOP!" Going out there now was a needless death sentence.

At your words Dan's expression of rage and desperation fell to one of shock. "He's dead?" He asked dumbly.

With a newfound softness you spoke,"Yeah. Skulls.." You looked away, letting him put two and two together. 

"Oh." Jen breathed, hands falling to her side. 

"We need to move." Alexis' voice cut through the moment of melancholy. "We need to call the cops," Her eyes locked with Dan's, "Now."

"Right." He was shaking.

Michael, someone he despised getting hurt was one thing; even Alexis someone he used to love and maybe still does getting shot in the breast didn't rattle him to the core like hearing the grim yet obvious news. Henry was dead and there was nothing he could do about it. He had no control over the situation. As much as Dan hated to admit it, they needed the police. "Here." Dan handed Jen her phone after fishing it from his pocket. 

In wordless unison, the group made their way away from the door. Out of fear, caution, and the need to distance yourselves from Henry's body. You didn't know how to feel about Henry's death. Grief? For someone you barley even knew. A sick sense of relief that someone who knew of the horrible secret you all shared was dead and gone? A bittersweet spark of joy that his final joke had landed so perfectly? The one thing that was clear to you was the sheer terror you felt towards his killers; the masked man's empty gaze as he crushed a Henry's skull. 

Entering the kitchen, Jen unlocked her phone and opened up the dial pad. Her mouth grew dry as it wouldn't go through."There's no signal."

"Shouldn't you be able to call anyway? For emergency calls your phone should connect you to the best possible signal." You informed her with a fearful edge to your voice. You whipped out your own phone shakily from your shirt pocket. You unlocked it while Jen dialed 9-1-1. You held off on calling yourself while watching her stand there with the phone to her ear. Seconds passed and turned into a whole minute. "Anything?" You held your breath.

"No." Jen stared at the ground in disbelief, hand shaking.

"Let me try." You bit the inside of your lip, dialing 9-1-1. Holding the phone up to your ear, you felt the cool glass press into you ear as you shook. The phone rang and rang and rang. No one picked up the on the other end. No one was going to come to your rescue. With a sharp hissing inhale,"We could move around the house and try and get some signal." You suggested, knowing there probably wasn't a hope in hell you'd get any. 

"The landline!" Alexis realized aloud, pointed a ruined nail to the red phone. 

Jen scrambled over to the landline and yanked it from its perch. She punched in the number, held the phone to her ear and waited. No one picked up. No sound came from the phone at all. "What...?" She looked down at the cord connected to the receiver. Your eyes followed her gaze. The cord was messily severed. "When..?"

Your gaze fell to Michael who sat on the floor next to the phone. One hand holding a popsicle to his head the other holding the knife that was passed around by the group earlier. Visual storytelling.

The second Dan picked up on what Micheal had done, he threw himself onto the man. He grabbed a fistfull of his shirt and pressed him into the wall. _"What the fuck did you do?"_ He growled through his teeth.

Michal let a knowing and triumphant smile stretch across his face,"What does it look like?" 

Dan pulled Micheal away from the wall he rested on just to slam him into it. "Why the everloving fuck did you do _that?"_

"They said if I did it," Michael's beady eyes looked at the dangling cord,"They'd spare my life."

"You cowardly little bastard!" Dan snarled at Michael's smug expression and slammed him into the wall again. "Do you understand how hard you just fucked us all over?"

"Fucked _you_ over. I have immunity." Michael snottily informed. 

"You believed what was most likely a bald-faced lie." Jen's grip on the phone turned her knuckles a sickly white. Cheeks growing red as her breaths grew shorter, "You just screwed us six ways from Sunday and you don't even have the gall to pretend to feel bad about it." Ice laced her tone as she reared her head back just to jut it forward as she spat on his face. 

"And," Dan had a malice filled grin spread on his chapped lips, "You don't have immunity from _me_."

With that Dan slammed his forehead against Michael's. Dazed, Micheal found himself unable to raise the knife in his hand against Dan who was currently throwing his fist back. When Dan's fist met Michael's sweaty flesh, his head jerked back into the wall. A pained grunt escaped his lips. Dan punched him again, square in the nose. "You really thought," He punched him again, voice tight and angry, "That we wouldn't do anything," and again, "When we fucking," and again, "Found out? Huh?" Dan pulled his raw knuckles away from Michael's bloodied skin. His nose was bent at an odd angle and his eyes had fallen shut. Dan dropped his grip on the man's shirt and his body slumped loosely onto the ground.

Jen knelt down and put a hand on his neck. She waited a moment before looking back at you, "He's alive. Just unconscious."

You didn't know whether this was good news or not.

"Should I kill the little rat bastard?" Dan whispered gravely through ground teeth. 

"No. We'd be no better then them." You looked at the floor, making up your mind as the image of Henry's caved in skull was fresh in your mind. "We should try to find signal somewhere in the house," you looked down at the knife held loosely in Michael's hand, "We should grab weapons too. You uhh.." You rubbed the back of your neck with a sigh, "You never know."

"You good to walk around?" Dan removed himself from Michael's unconscious body and looked at Alexis. 

"Yeah. Just trying not to move my torso too much." She responded dryly. 

"Lets split up, gang?" You asked, trying to sound lighthearted,"Divide and conquer?"

Before anybody could respond to your idea, a sharp sound echoed through the house from the direction of the living room.

**Knock, Knock.**


	3. 2 - LET ME IN! LET ME INNNN!

_**Knock, Knock.**_

_"Come on assholes! Let me in!" Henry pounded his fist against the car window._

_"Us." Michael corrected him._

_You didn't turn to look at either of the boys, your gaze was trained on Jen's smiling face. Everything else in the world seemed to melt away when you looked into her baby blues. Everyone called her ugly, stupid, and a bent straw but you could never view her like that. She wasn't attractive by societal standards, but after the years you both had spent together, she was practically a goddess in your eyes. Her rats nest of dirty blonde hair, her oily skin, the chunky back brace she always wore around her torso, her colorful plastic jewelry, it was all so her. So Jennifer Baker. You loved it._

_The mini-vans door slid open after Daniel Baker, the football team's second best player, who sat comfortably in the drivers seat, unlocked the car doors. "'Bout time!" Henry Martinez, the resident pot dealer, hauled himself into the car. Passing the thin isle that led to the back seats of the van, he saw the tender moment you and Jen were quietly sharing. Jen noticed his stare first. Your heart sunk when she turned away. Following her gaze, you found a smug looking Henry._

_"Knew it." He whispered to himself, turned his head away and threw himself into the seat in front of Jen. Micheal White, the schools biggest incel, followed his buddy into the car, not sparing you a glance._

_"Everyone buckled up?" Dan looked at his companions from the rear-view mirror._

_The whirring of seat belts filled the air as Michael and Henry pulled their seat belts over their scrawny bodies. "Yep." Michael huffed out un-enthusiastically. He never liked Dan. Thought he was a prick. He always got the girl while Michael was stuck being single, while all the girls he'd ever had feelings for tripped over themselves vying for his attention. A free ride was a free ride though, so who was he to turn it down._

_"Lets go already. I don't want to be around this shit hole any longer then I've gotta be." In the passenger seat sat Alexis Harrison. The local top bitch who came from a bottom of the barrel home. Her hair this week was a messy half pink half green mix. It looked haphazardly done, some of her original blonde hair shining through the muddied colors._

_As Dan began to back up out of the parking spot, you turned your body away from Jen's. Not wanting him to see you two so close in the rear view window. He'd never been verbally homophobic but you saw the disgusted look he gave Henry whenever he kissed his boyfriend while picking him up from football practice. He'd always hated you. For the first few years of being friends with Jen, he hid it well. As the years wore on though, his resentment towards you grew and he began letting it show. At first it was silly insults but as time passed, his words grew more targeted and venomous. Last summer, when you were spending the night over, he buzzed off a chunk of your hair in your sleep. Then drew a little '8=D' across your forehead. He never told you why he hated you so but if you were to guess; it'd be that you somehow fed his very apparent inferiority complex._

_"Did you guys hear?" Alexis clapped her hands together with a grin._

_"About?" Dan asked his girlfriend idly as he pulled the car out of the parking lot._

_"Jessica Andrews tried to suck-off Mr. Leerson so should could pass his class!" With shrieking laughter she continued,"I mean I get it but, like, Mr. Leersons class is so fucking easy! I didn't even need to use Sparknotes to pass his class and I'm horrible at English!"_

_Henry joined in her cruel laughter. Michael just rolled his eyes behind his thickly framed glasses._

_"You're the stupidest bitch I've ever met!" Henry began, wiping a tear from his eye, "How could anyone be worse at English than you?" He cackled at both of the girls' expense._

_"Rude," She snapped her head towards him with a lip curled back, "But!" She grinned. "You're right. I'm stupid!"_

_You never got along with the girl but you wished she'd stop self deprecating. The lower her self esteem fell, the crueler she became to you. Also, it was just plain bad for her already questionable mental health._

_As their laughter died down, you slipped a hand towards Jens side. Looking out the window, you watched the scenery fly by. When you felt a soft hand adorned with rings rest atop yours, you couldn't help but smile._

_"Hey, where the fuck are we going?" Michael grumbled as he looked out his window. You knew it too, that the route you were all taking to Dan's house wasn't the same you'd traveled hundreds of times before._

_"My dad showed me this shortcut. It'll cut the ride in half." Dan flatly responded. Slowing the car down to turn onto a partially unpaved road, framed by thick rows of trees. The second the car rounded the corner, he pressed his foot steadily down on the gas pedal. The cars speed grew by the second._

_"What are you doing?" You looked away from the window and leaned into the isle, looking at the back of the drivers seat._

_"Driving." There was something up with him today. He was being pissy but not in the same way he usually would be. When he was upset, he'd always be saying 'Fuck this, fuck that, fuck you,' not shutting up till he'd calmed down. His sharp tone and the few words he let escaped from his tightly pulled together lips deeply unnerved you. You wanted out of the car, now. Glancing at Jen, you could see the confusion and concern on her soft features. She knew something was up with her brother._

_"Hey, Daniel," She called out,"Is everything al-"_

_**"HOLY SHIT! LOOK OUT!"**_

_**\----** _

Knife shakily in hand, you made your way towards the living room at a snails pace. Dan led the group along, a large butchers knife in hand. Jen, so close behind you that you felt her breath tickle the back of your neck; a thick metal pan in her grip. Last in your conga line of horror movie character tropes (the strong leader, final girl, the brainiac, and the bitchy blonde), was Alexis who wielded a meat tenderizer. 

_**Knock, knock.**_

The sound echoed off of the living rooms walls again. Freezing the group in place a moment before they began their slow march once again. Dan headed for the door, if anything was going to come through that door, he was going to stab it. He was shadowed by his sister. You headed for the window, a morbid curiosity had filled you.

You inched towards the window, knuckles whitening as you gripped the knife like it was your lifeline. Standing to the side of the window, wanting to minimize the amount you'd be visible to the men outside, you peaked your head into the windows view. 

On the front porch you saw him, the goggled one. He'd dragged Henry's corpse up the steps of the porch, a red trail showing his path. Holding Henry's wrist, he brought the dead mans knuckles up to the door. Henry's head was slumped limply onto the boys shoulder, his feet bent at odd angles on the ground. He was easily half a foot taller and a hundred pounds heavier than the scrawny, masked psycho but he held your friend's dead weight like it was nothing. 

_**Knock, knock.**_

Blood drained from your face as you took in a sharp inhale. The sick bastard was softly giggling to himself. His head snapped in your direction, a crack accompanying the movement, it made you cringe and recoil. With his spare gloved hand, he waved at you, wiggling his fingers one by one. He tilted his head side to side, as if pondering, probably something horrible. 

" _Le-let m-me in."_ He sounded like he was trying to comfort a friend who had just been cheated on. Softly, to reassure them but with a demanding edge to never trust the adulterer again. 

"Get out of here, you little fucker!" Alexis hissed behind you. 

"Aww, c-come on," he dropped Henry's wrist and took a step towards the window, dragging the man's body with him, "Won't you puh-puh-please let a," another step,"Poor lost sssuh-sssuh-soul," he stood in front of the window and leaned close, "In?" Henry's crushed skull hung limply besides the psychos masked face. Bloods, brains, chips of bone, and viscera oozed from the cavity as what was left of Henry's head leaned forwards with the man. He didn't even flinch as a large chunk of Henry's scrambled brain fell onto his hoodie and slowly rolled off the brown fabric, leaving a red trail in its wake.

The boy who'd slaughtered Henry stood a few inches a way, the only thing shielding you from him was the thin glass. You were paralyzed by his stare. You could barley make out his eyes through the thick orange plastic of his goggles but you could tell he was looking into your (E/c) eyes. He could shatter it anytime he wanted; you both knew it. You just wondered when he'd do it.

Dan's arms shot into your view, he pulled the curtains shut before you. You found yourself relieved, the sight of Henry's body and the sick-o who'd held him made you want to vomit. "Split up," He demanded in a whisper, "Try to get a signal on your phone," he was pale and sweaty but spoke without fear, "Stay safe." That was the nicest and most genuine thing he'd ever said, to you that is. 

Without thought you responded, "You too," you looked at the women next to you, "Yell if anything happens. I'll take the upstairs." 

"I'll take the basement." You heard Jen proclaim as you hustled towards the stairs. 

As you climbed the stairs, a pit deep in your gut, you unlocked your phone and waved it about. Looking for the little symbol on the top of the little screen that would bring your salvation. 

You stood at the top of the stairs, leaning your body on the cool glass overlooking the forest. You stared at your phone, lips pressed into a line.

"Come on, man..." You huffed, held the phone above your head and desperately moved it about.

_**Knock, Knock.**_

The soft rapping on the glass aside your head made you jump and turn to the source of the sound. The knife fell from your hand, you didn't notice in your terror. Looking down at you, from behind the thick glass, was a man. Neutral yellow hoodie, a loose black mask with a frowning face, but what really caught your attention was something else.

Behind his left shoulder, the barrel of a gun poked out. At his right hip, you could see part of its handle. A brown strap hung horizontally across his body. 

Noticing your gaze, the man grabbed the strap and pulled on it a bit, the gun on his back shifting. You weren't the most well versed in types of guns but from what action movies you'd seen, you had a guess that it was a rifle of some sort. He leaned forwards, his form towering over yours. He placed a gloved hand on the glass, his masked face coming within centimeters of the glass. Neither of you moved as you both sized one another up. 

His breath began to fog up the glass. Once it was opaque enough for his liking, he released the strap and brought his finger up to the foggy glass. The glass lowly moaned as he slowly pressed his finger down, creating a line. He repeated the action right next to the line. Deliberately slowly, he moved his finger downwards, away from the glass. Pressing his finger on the glass one last time, he made a U. It was a smiley face. 

Your brows furrowed, you pushed a piercing laugh from your lungs, not knowing how to respond. The laugh wasn't one of mockery, or dumb bravery, no, it was one of fear. It was a laugh that you used to try to comfort yourself. It wasn't working very well. You stopped as he pulled away from the glass, straightening up, standing at his full height. He turned on his heel and leisurely began walking away from you. You could see him still as he walked alongside the glass. 

Wasn't there a door to the walkway?

"Fuck." You realized and made a made a mad dash, passing the man who didn't bother pick up his pace. Anxiety crawled up your spine when the wall changed from glass to wood. The first door you came had no lock on your side of the wall. It didn't lead outside. You scrambled to the next door, it had a medium sized window that showed off the dark sky, and found a small mechanism on the doorknob. A lock. You made haste and locked it with a ' _click_.' 

Relief flooded into your bones,"Oh thank-"

_**Knock, knock.**_

Jumping for the second time, your hand shot to the door handle. You knew it was locked but holding the handle brought you more of a false sense of security. It rattled. You felt him slowly twisting the doorknob back and forth. You slapped your other hand onto the handle, both your hands slick with sweat. Your phone clattering to the ground, you could hear the screen crack. You gripped the knob as hard as you could, just to stop the agonizingly slow turning. It was such a simple action, yet it made the ramen in your stomach threaten to expel itself from your guts. 

Your eyes shot to the window. You could only see the red frown in the window. 

"I don't have time for this," you pushed the air from your lungs, "I need to find a signal," You continued to yourself.

You made, what you thought, was eye contact with the frowny fucker before you, "Fuck off, man." You tried to find bravery in your voice, instead your voice cracked just like your phone. You released the doorknob with shaking hands. With speed you didn't know you had, you bent down and snatched your phone from the floor.

You sped down the hall, waving your phone about, (e/c) eyes frantically looking at the screen. Internally begging the stupid thing to just give you a signal already. "Come on! Come on! Please!" You begged, pushing the door to random room open. Maybe you'd get signal in there. Probably not but you didn't have the option to overlook a chance to get signal.

The room was mostly barren. Cream colored walls, a white bed pushed against the wall, a bed stand with a tiny lamp standing upon it. Pushing the door partially shut behind you, you rushed forwards and flicked the lamp on. A dim yellow light filled the room, your elongated shadow making you jump when you turned around. You waved your phone about as you walked around the room. Pressing yourself into each of the corners, standing on the bed that creaked under your weight, standing in the middle of the room. No signal.

Deciding the room was a waste of time, you opened the door to the hallway, not bothering to turn the light off. Across the hall from where you stood was the door to the room you were supposed to stay in. Like hell you'd sleep at all tonight. You took a step forward into the hall.

_**Creeeeeeeeeeeeek.**_

You snapped your head towards the door that led to the walkway, It was ajar. The doorknob bent at an odd angle. The man wasn't in sight and there were no gunshots or yelling from downstairs. The frowny fuck was probably hiding in on of the empty rooms near the door he entered from and you weren't about to find out which one.

You pushed yourself forward into your room. You slammed the door behind you, locking it. You fumbled around for the light switch a moment before your (s/c) fingers found it. It looked just as you left it. Your bag thrown haphazardly onto your bed, clothes tucked into the wooden dresser. 

You threw yourself to the bed and snatched your bag, letting your phone fall beside it. With a victorious, 'Yeesss.' you fished out a room temperature mini bottle of water from it. Your mouth had run dry long ago and you were in desperate need of hydration. Tearing the cap from the bottle, you threw it behind you and heard it clatter against the floor as you knocked your head back and chugged. 

"Aah." You crushed the plastic bottle in your sweaty fist and let it fall to the floor. Searching though your bag again, you found your keys which were now completely useless. You let them fall to the bottom of your bag and continued to search through it. You found your wallet, which held seven dollars, a gift card to (favorite restaurant), and your drivers licence. You contemplated a moment, was it worth it to take it with you? A gift card and seven dollars wouldn't get you anywhere in your situation and your license was as useless as your keys. You pushed the wallet aside with a huff, your eyes widened as you found something of _real_ use. 

In your fingers, you held your beloved, sweet, beautiful, (Favorite scent) chap-stick. Your lips felt like a gravel driveway, you needed this. With a 'pop', you pulled the cap from the chap-stick and messily applied it onto your lips. It felt like the gates of heaven opened and took you with open arms.

_**Knock, knock.**_

The sound reverberated on the walls of your room. You dropped the chap-stick in surprise, it rolled towards the door. You mentally smacked yourself, you forgot to yell down to the others about the man. Now he was in the house. Your legs locked themselves into place. You couldn't breathe, he was in the house and outside your room. 

If you yelled for the others, you felt that he'd kill them as they came up the stairs. Maybe they'd run outside the house and get killed by the other two men. Alternatively, the man could go downstairs and kill them all because you called for the help of those down there. The scenarios ran through your head at breakneck speed. 

**_Knock, knock._**

The sound forced you to breath, your legs unlocked and felt like the bones had been removed from them. You wobbled, waving your arms at your side to balance yourself. You needed to move, now. 

Without thinking, you snatched the chap-stick from the floor. You jogged over to the bed and grabbed your phone. _The knife_. You realized, your gut falling from a skyscraper and splatter violently on the ground. You couldn't call for help, the many scenarios that played out in your head wouldn't allow you to. You didn't have your dull kitchen knife to defend yourself with against a huge man with a huge gun. That's rough.

_**Knock, knock.**_

Again, you didn't think, you just did, "Nobody's home, go away!" You quietly squealed. You smacked your forehead, how fucking stupid were you? 

Silence. 

Did he leave? Leave to kill your companions?

You threw yourself to the floor onto all fours. You skidded over to the door and put your cheek to the floor. The cool draft from the hallway blowing softly on your skin. You saw a sliver of two shoes. You could only make out worn brown souls.

You both, respectively, stood and sat on your hands and knees, in a quiet stand-off. You pressed your fingers into the rough wood floor, trying to ground yourself in your unfortunate reality. This really sucks. Unmoving as you watched his shoes, your mind wandered to the possibility of escaping from your window onto the walkway. As soon as the thought crossed your mind, you dashed it. Two of them were outside and you did not want their attention. If you took the door back inside that the frowny fucker took, you feared that he'd ambush you. There had to be a way out. You just had to make it downstairs and let the others know of their peril. 

" _FUCK OFF, MURDER TWINK!"_ Alexis' shrill voice cut through the silence. You jumped in your skin, breath caching in your throat. 

The man moved away from the door. Not in direction you expected though. Instead of walking towards the stairs, the boots slowly turned towards opposite direction. His steps were almost inaudible as he moved away. You pressed your ear to the door, knowing it was a dumb idea, knowing he could pop a bullet into your idiotic skull if he felt like it, you just needed to hear how far away he'd moved. Was he leaving you be? Maybe he wanted to fake you out? Lure you out with a false sense of security, and the second you peak your head out of the door, put a bullet into the back of your cute little head. 

If he wanted to kill you, you reasoned with yourself, he would have done so already. He had a giant fucking gun. He could have put so many holes in your body through that thin door already, but he didn't. He was having fun with you. Cocky little- well big- bastard. You could use that. You could take a gamble that he didn't want to end his game just yet. You could take a gamble that he wouldn't gun your ass down the second you came out the door. Maybe he wanted you to run through the hallway. If you chose the wrong option, one he hadn't set up for you, then he'd kill you. Those were all _big_ if's. 

The chance of your guess being correct was probably horribly slim. You had to take it anyway. You felt if you stayed shut in your room any longer, the frowny fuck would get bored, bust your door down, then paint the cream walls red with your blood and brains. If you made it, you could let the others know about him, in a way that maybe guaranteed you wouldn't all meet your maker sooner then planned. You had to take the chance. 

You pushed your face away from the door and stood. You needed to run, soon. Run! You should probably put on better 'running from a band of psychotic slashers' gear. You kicked off you (f/c) slip-ons and grabbed a pair of scuffed up (f/c) and white sneakers that you'd left beside the door. You brought them in hope that you'd walk on a beautiful forest trail with Jen. Life never goes as planned, does it?

With shaking hands, you hastily tied your shoelaces. Now you were ready. All you were armed with was a tube of chap-stick in your pocket, a cracked phone, and a wildly stupid hope. You hoped this would work.


	4. 3 - Three's A Crowd

Hyping yourself up when you are a more-than-mildly traumatized twenty year old, in a house with a giant man with a giant fucking gun, is no easy task. You bounced side to side letting out quick huffs, chanting 'I can do it,' in your head. You shook out your arms, shaking your head, trying to shake off the fear. You just had to listen to the little Britney Spears in the back of your head; she told you ' _You better work bitch.'_

 _'Now, get to work bitch!'_ You shoved your phone into your pocket with chap-stick, your (dominant) hand gripping the knife. Without hesitation but lots of dread, you unlocked the door and swung it open with a mighty push. You flew out of the room, refusing to look behind you. You didn't want to know if he was behind you; gun drawn and aiming for your head. Ignorance is bliss as they say. 

The sound of pounding footsteps filled the drafty hall as you ran. "What the hell is going on?!" Dan shouted from below. Your throat was closed tight with fear. A witty response couldn't be given, no matter how much you wanted to say something snarky. All that mattered was getting down those stairs and warning everybody. Not dying is a big plus too.

You threw your body downwards as you approached the stairs. Near the top step laid your dull kitchen knife. You slid, reaching out an arm to grab it. You let out a relieved gasp as you grasped its hard plastic handle. Then, you let out a gasp, "Shit." You were going so fast as you slid to grab the knife that you flew off of the top of the stairs. Damn knife.

**_Thump, Thump, Thump, "Ow fuck!" Thump, Thump._**

You tumbled down the stairs, dangerously swinging the knife aimlessly as you fell. You felt like clothes in a dryer with how fast you were spinning. You landed on the wooden floor of the downstairs on your back, sliding to a stop. The knife escaping your grip, resting beside you; slippery little fucker. Miraculously it didn't cut you or any of the confused souls who now gathered around your body. 

"Uhhnnggg," if you were a cartoon character you'd be seeing stars, "Fuck."

Your forearms, knees, and sides got the worst of the fall. They nagged at you with a piercing ache, despite the adrenaline running through your veins. If you lived to the morning, they'd leave ugly yellow and brown bruises. 

"(L/n)!" Dan's voice dragged your attention partially from your position on the hard floor. "What the fuck is going on?!" You wanted to smile at the concern that lined his tone. He was concerned for your well being, his too as your mad dash for the downstairs very obviously signified something was horribly wrong.

"Hhhheeeeernnn." You groaned, dragging yourself to a sitting position with your aching arms.

You needed a moment to collect yourself. "I uhh," you let out a breath, eyeing the knife that laid idly by your side, "There's somebody upstairs." You shifted your tone as your lifted yourself up further, still dazed by the fall. "There's a third one...He has a gun." Your eyes met with Dan's, as your brows laced together,"I'm so sorry."

Your let your words melt together as you began to speak fervently."I didn't even think when I saw him. He was just so fucking big!" You moved your legs to support your weight so you could make a gesture with your arms to show how much taller he was then you. "He's got a huge fucking gun," your legs disagreed with the movement but you began to push yourself to stand as you looked at Alexis, "I think he's the one that shot you." Staggering, you continued to ramble, "I was looking for signal and- and-"

Dan slapped a calloused hand onto your shoulder,"(Y/n)," he rarely called you by your name, "Keep it together." 

He squeezed your shoulder; it didn't distract you from the pain in your limbs and sides at all, didn't change the fact there was another man that would kill all of you.

_"I CAN'T KEEP IT TOGETHER BECAUSE HE'S IN THE HOUSE!_ " You shouted at him, there was no time for comfort. 

A thundering chorus of slamming yanked your attention from Dan's face. "What the hell?" Dan echoed his earlier sentiment as the sounds drew close and Jen's screaming filled your ears.

" _FUCK! FUCK! THERE'S SOMEONE IN THE BASEMENT!"_

Your head snapped to the basement door that sat ajar next to the chunky living room TV. She barreled into the living room, smashing the door into its frame and frantically locking it. "We need to get the fuck out of here!" She screeched, face red and eyes watering. 

Not skipping a beat and allowing what little time you all had left to escape, Alexis shouted, "The backdoor!" 

Jen barreled out of the room before anyone else, terror stretched across her face. You quickly grabbed the knife from the ground, hoping your butterfingers wouldn't drop the damn thing again. 

**_Bang!_**

The rickety basement door shuttered violently as a something collided with it. You scrambled to a standing position, nearly falling onto the ground as your legs nagged at you. You skidded into the kitchen and swung your body to face your frozen companions.

"What are you doing?" You asked dumbly, not yet following their gaze. Your eyes had locked onto Michael who was still slumped against the wall. You pondered a moment if you should convince the others to help him, he was another human being! Shouldn't you try to wake him up so he could escape with you? Dragging his fat ass along with you as you escaped was out of the question, his weight would slow you to a snails pace. Then again, he fucked you all over, did he even deserve saving? Probably not.

"God fucking damn it!" Alexis cried, stomping a foot. Hot angry tears slid down her cheeks. This wasn't fair.

Leaning on the glass of the sliding door, was goggles. Hatchets hanging lazily on his belt straps at his hips. You all had thought he'd still be playing with Henry's corpse at the front of the house like the sick fuck he was. If he was here, one was upstairs, and one was in the basement, then your only route to freedom was the front door.

"The front door!" You exclaimed with wide eyes.

"He'll just run around the house and kill us when we go outside!" Alexis screamed at you, curling her thin lips back into a snarl. "We are all so fucking dead!" She a few hysterical laughs left her lips as more tears streaked down her cheeks.

"We have to try!" You argued,"We have a shot!" You needed to stay optimistic. 

Before Alexis could scream her disparities at you, there was a quick rapping on the sliding door. "Huh-Hey!" Heads snapped to the masked boy who's head lulled against the glass, "Don't puh-plan your escape in fruh-front of mmmuh-mmme." He stumbled over and elongated his words with a drawl and though you couldn't see his mouth you could hear the sick grin in his voice. 

Dan bared his teeth at the young man and snarled, "Shut the fuck up, you little fucking prick." He lowly insulted, hand gripping his knife with a vengeance. 

"Little prick this, mmmmuh-murder tuh-tuh-twink that! Is that the buh-best you can do?" Goggles cockily retorted with a crack of his head and a roll of his shoulder. 

"Why don't you just let us go!" Jen cried out, taking a step forward, you noticed her pan was gone as she flexed her fingers anxiously.

"Sshhhhh-should you really be asking that right now?" He turned his body more towards the group. 

He made a stupid amount of sense. You didn't have time for pleading questions or banter with the stuttering fuck. You had to move "Come on!" You desperately cried at your company, turning to leave.

"You wuh-wuh-won't get outside but fuh-feel free to try." You herd him call with a cackle as you ran out of the room. 

_**Bang!**_

The basement door groaned, a few splinters flying from it's shaking form. It wouldn't hold whoever was behind it much longer. Pounding footsteps followed you to the door. With your free hand, you wrapped your hand around the front doors handle. You pulled it towards you with all your might. It opened an inch before something pulled back. You tugged again. The door wouldn't open anymore then it already had. 

"Move!" Dan pushed you aside, grabbed the door and yanked on the handle. There was a thud as he pulled it towards him but the door didn't give. "What the fuck?!" Confusion and anger in his words. He pulled again. Nothing.

"Let me see!" Jen pushed past you both and looked through the crack of the door. Her breath hitched in her throat, the outer handle of the door was tied with a thick rope to one of support beams of the porch. Her brain stuttered a moment before thinking of a solution.

"(Y/n)! Daniel! There's a rope!" She haphazardly explained, pushing herself away from the doors crack.

**_Bang!_**

The basement door now had a large crack forming down its center. Time was running out. 

Dan didn't need an explanation. He may be a meat-head, but he has more then three brain cells and put together what his sister meant. A hand still holding the door open, as much as it could be, the other shot into action. He slid the knife through the crack of the door and began to saw it back and forth with a vigor you'd only seen from him at the football games Jen forced you to go to. His progress was pitiful despite his strength. The rope was made of thick bands of intertwined nylon, cutting it with a kitchen knife without the blade being serrated was a fools errand. 

You stood frozen, should you offer him your dull blade? Two knives are better than one. Before you could, you heard a squealing sound reverberate off the cabin walls. 

"Thanks, _Michael."_ The poisonously boyish voice of goggles became clear to you. His voice wasn't muffled by a barrier of glass. A false blanket of security. He was inside.

"Fuck!" Dan growled, he sawed desperately. There was no way he'd get a fourth through the rope before that psychotic man-child would enter the room. 

"Window!" Alexis realized with a shout. She tore the curtains open. She was met face to glass with Henry's dead body. Goggles had propped the poor man's corpse against the cabin's wall. Alexis wretched. Fragments of his brain was oozing from the cavity in his head and thick trails of blood ran down the window. You couldn't even begin to describe the concave features of his smashed face. It didn't matter, you realized sickly. You had to save everyone else, you couldn't mourn Henry. You didn't have the luxury. She could still shatter the window, maybe they could get out. With a spark of hope that you'd tried to give her earlier, she swung back the meat tenderizer in her palm, preparing to smash the glass to bits.

**_B A N G !_**

It was like a crack of thunder had gone off right next to your ear. It was followed by a soul-crushing shriek of pure agony. It happened so fast, you could hardly process the scene before you. 

_"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHH_!" Alexis' mallet lay on the floor at your feet. Covered in thick chunks of flesh, blood, and a fingernail. In your haze of shock, you brought a hand to your face, feeling something warm on your cheeks. After you softly caressed your own skin, you pulled your hand before your gaze. Blood. 

"What..?" You looked down at yourself. You didn't feel any pain, but there were specs of blood all over your shirt and your ears were ringing. 

"AAAAAAAAAAAUG! GOD WHY! FUCK! FUCK! AAAAAAAAAAAH!" Your head cleared as you looked at Alexis' bent over form.

She stood, curled in on herself. Her left hand clutching her right forearm. Her right hand had disappeared. All that was there was a gnarled bloody stump, blood soaked bone peaking out.

**"You did not listen."** Your eyes snapped from the woman in agony, who let out hiccups and sobs. The voice that grabbed your attention was too deep to be normal. It had a robotic edge. A voice changer? Guess he's a wannabe Ghost face. At the top of the stairs stood the hooded man.

Rifle at attention in his hands. He had shot Alexis' hand off. 

**"Do not try to go outside again."** He spoke evenly as he could with the voice changer. He ignored the string of colorful curses from Alexis, lowered his rifle, turned on his heel, and disappeared from view. You didn't hear his footsteps.

**_Bang! Thump! Thud!_**

The wooden door crumbled to the floor. A hand wrapped around its partially busted frame. Someone slowly pulled themselves into the room. It was the man in the black and white mask. You heard his deliberately loud footsteps as he stood himself tall and intimidating in the broken doorway, seemingly unbothered by the fact he just smashed through a fucking door. 

Two more pairs of footsteps echoed in your ringing ears. It was a cacophony of sounds that you really didn't want to hear. More incoherent threats from Dan and Alexis' continuing cries. You felt bad that you even thought your fall down the stairs hurt, that was nothing.

From the kitchen emerged google boy, trailed by Michael. Did he just wake up? Did he pretend to still be unconscious waiting for the opportunity to further side with the horrible men? Either way, the rat faced motherfucker let goggles in.

"Hey Mmmuh-Mmm-masky!" Goggles chirped at 'Masky' with a wave. His fingers suddenly flexed at odd angles as he let out a grunt. "Tuh-took ya long enough!" The boy joked with a sinisterly wholesome tone. "You're usually the fuh-fuh-first inside! Guess you're slowing duh-down, huh old muh-man?"

"Shut the fuck up, Rogers." The one who was supposedly Masky hissed without looking towards the boy. He was instead distracted by the huddled group of survivors. 

Dan wanted so badly to comfort the wounded Alexis but he took to standing in front of her defensively instead. He couldn't let her get hurt anymore. He wanted to protect her, their years apart had thrown nostalgic rose-colored glasses on their relationship. He wanted to fall recklessly in love with her again, you could tell, bitterly seeing the parallel between the two of you. She could have moved on all those years but she didn't. Like him, she was stuck in the past and desperately clinging to the memory of their previously discarded relationship. They needed each other. They needed the others body, they needed each other's reassuring words. Alexis needed an escape from her abusive father and Dan needed an escape from the lack of love from his parents. They were in the same sinking ship and Dan wanted to repair the giant hole that they both, along with the psychopaths before him, made. 

"Oooh," Masky rolled out a sarcastic exclamation of surprise, "We got a tough guy over here!"

He swung the crowbar lazily by his side. You could hear the excitement in his voice; his motions were practiced, like he knew what to do with people like Dan. He wasn't at all deterred by Dan's confidence and physique, he even seemed excited. Though he seemed relaxed, you could sense tension just below the surface. He was itching for a fight. 

"Shut the fuck up." Dam growled between his ground teeth.

You needed an out. While they were talking, your eyes shot about, looking for a way out. The backdoor was a no go, goggle boy was blocking the way. The basement wasn't either, you didn't even know how Masky got down there. The front door was tied shut. When Alexis tried to break the window, she got her hand shot off, it was a no-go. Your only option was to make another bet on the hooded man. You had to bet that he wanted you still in the game. That if you rushed back upstairs he wouldn't put a bullet between your eyes. You had a feeling he was more of an observer and referee for their 'game'. Enforcing the rules and watching things play out for the most part. He did fuck with you though, so he did play too, in his own way. You'd take being psychologically fucked with over being bludgeoned or axed to death.

Dan readjusted the grip on his knife, his lips curled into a snarl. 

"Oh-ho-ho!" Masky let out a hardy laugh. 

"I'm going to fucking kill you." Dan growled, stalking forward. He was giving you an opening, a chance to get away. You just needed the still sobbing Alexis and Jen to realize that if they hadn't already. 

"Guys," You let out a breathy whisper, you hoped the men before you were too focused on Dan, "We gotta get upstairs. Come on." Your (e/c) eyes pleading with the women beside you. 

"Are you nuts?" Jen mumbled. Alexis just continued to hysterically cry.

"Do you have any other ideas?" You couldn't help but spit out at her. Questioning the only semi-valid option of escape was a stupid idea. You thought she was smarter than that. She didn't respond, eyes darting to the stairs. She calculated your chances of survival in her mind. 

"Come on big guy!" Masky taunted the enraged man before him, swinging his crowbar onto his shoulder casually. "Try me." His tone darkened as he cocked his head to the side, you could practically hear the smile on his face.

Goggles (Rogers?) leaned on the wall beside the entrance to the kitchen, his arms were crossed and his left foot was lazily placed on the wall behind him. He looked as relaxed as could be. He could chase the three of down and kill you, you knew that, you had seen the brute strength and stamina he held, lugging around Henry’s corpse and darting around the cabin with alarming speed. Something was keeping him here.   
You followed his gaze; he was intently watching the pair of men preparing to duel, almost completely ignoring the huddled group you were a part of. Maybe he was there as back up, to help ‘Masky’ if Dan was too much. No, you thought, he was too relaxed.   
He was just there to watch the show like the mischievous prick he was.

In the doorway beside him stood Michael, he adjusted his glasses on his face, feeling somewhat comfortable behind the masked killer, also there to enjoy the show.

"I'm going to fucking gut you." Dan snarled, sounding like a man possessed.

You slowly put a hand to Alexis shoulder, trying to usher the hysterical woman towards the stairs. Noticing your actions, Jen did the same. Alexis dug her heels into the floor, she didn't want to move. Everything hurt too fucking much. Her tit, her hand; well, stump. She'd lost a lot of blood and you couldn't imagine how she felt. How the severed nerves in her hand firing nothing but pain to her already exhausted brain; her heart rapidly pumping blood to a lifeless stump.

"Please." You quietly begged the woman. You may not have cared for her much but you still had morals and a general idea that if you left the defenseless, sobbing, woman to perish, you'd never get over it. "It'll be okay."

No it wouldn't. You lied through your teeth but you didn't know what else to say. 

"I don't fucking believe you." She whispered pathetically, her voice was raw from the cries of pain. There was no hope left in her, just wild desperation and pain. All she could do was shake and cradle the unharmed area above her, now, stump. The ramen from before threatened to project from her stomach every time she looked at it. What a fucking nightmare.

"Alexis," Jen looked down at her, "Move or we are going to leave you to die."

She gave the ultimatum to the blonde with a surprising lack of empathy. The situation had just grown worse as the night wore on for Jen. First, she had to come all the way back home to her home state, you remember her telling you it was a nine hour drive. She didn't get to nap or relax because she made dinner for every one with you. She had to be around her ex best friend, who ignored her calls and broke her heart; and you both had to act like everything was ok. You knew she was holding back her anger towards you, playing nice like she always did, but you knew the strain. She saw a woman shot in the tit, a man bludgeoned to death, and so much more. She was tired. You knew she couldn’t play nice any longer, she was at her wits end.This whole night has been a nonstop train wreck. 

The two large men stalked around the couches, they were going to brawl any second. The second they collided, Masky would be distracted and you'd only have to worry about goggle boy giving chase. You hoped he would stay glued to his spot.

Almost as if he heard your thoughts, his head snapped in your direction, accompanied by a loud _'pop'._ He was looking your way but with his eyes behind the foggy orange of his goggles, you didn't know where exactly. He let out a chuckle, full of sadistic glee, "That looks like it huh-huh-hurts. You really cuh-could use _a hand._ _"_

He leaned forward with a cackle and you jumped back thinking he was going to start stalking towards you. "Hah." He giggled to himself at your alarmed expression.  
He didn't make any moves towards your group, he was just passing the time while waiting for the fight between the two large men to start, rolling his shoulder in a familiar twitch and looking back to the men.

Your lips formed into a line, you tried to stop yourself. The comment forced its way past your lips, "Nice one."

His joke was sick and cruel but God damn did it land. You didn't want to acknowledge that it did but you did anyway. Jen glared disapprovingly at you and you tried not to notice her. 

He let out an elated gasp, "Thank you!" He straightened up his posture, "It's nice to knuh-know that ssssuh-suh-someone appreciates me around here." His head jerked to the side, his tone dipped into a less playful one and more into a _'man-I-can't-wait-to-kill-you_ ' one, "I think I want to save you for last."  
The lack of stutters made the message all the more sinister and you felt a shiver run down your spine. 

All of your heads snapped back the men as Dan lunged forwards with a shout. It was time for you to move as well.

"Come on!" You pushed on her shoulder, charging towards the stairs, away from the crazy kid and the brawling men.

Jen shoved Alexis forwards, once before letting the woman move with only your aid. Jen was first up the stairs, yelling and crashing joining the sounds of her loafers stomping on the stairs. Alexis followed with a stumble, you nearly fell with her but you balanced yourself and pulled her up with you. She bolted up the steps, lagging a bit behind Jen who reached for the stumbling woman's shoulders. 

You followed the blonde but you made a mistake, you looked over your shoulder at the scene playing behind you. Dan was laying on the now broken coffee table. Masky straddling his chest, slamming his fists into his face. Your stomach dropped when he turned his masked face your way, "Be right with you." He huffed out with a laugh.

That gave you even more motivation and adrenaline to get the fuck away from him. You climbed the rest of the stairs with a renewed vigor, you didn't look back again.

"Door! Door!" Alexis chanted, the hooded man's warning not replaying in her hazy mind. She'd lost a lot of blood and was hopped up on too much adrenaline to care.

"Wait!" You called after the blonde. The peak over your shoulder had stopped you in your tracks long enough for her to get a few feet ahead of you. She was out of reach. If she went out that door, you know the hooded man would reappear from the darkness and kill anyone that dared go outside. You had burned through two warning shots from him already. Strike three and you're out. 

It was like she was deaf to your calls. She just stumbled forward, pushing Jen into the wall. The thing about getting shot twice, once in the tit, the other taking your entire hand, is that after that, you don't give a rats ass about anybody else but yourself. 

"No!" You helplessly pleaded with the woman, trying to catch up. She was inches away from the open door, "Don't!" She lunged towards the great outdoors,"The hooded man he'll-"

_**B A N G !**_

Alexis' body slammed against the wall behind the door with a wet slap. It was partially muted by the nearly deafening gunshot. Your ears rang with the now familiar impact of a gunshot and you looked around in dismay. The hallway around her slumped body looked like a bloody war zone. Blood, muscle, viscera, bone shards, all splattered around her, coating the front of your body, dripping into your eyes. But you couldnt bring yourself to wipe it off, couldn't bring yourself to check on Jen, all you could do was stare at your childhood bully. 

There was a massive hole in her chest, gaping and dripping. Her left breast was practically gone and what little was left of it hung limply over the hole. The hanging skin didn't cover much of the gore. Her body convulsed as she looked, her legs splayed before her at odd angles, like a new born deer. She didn't move anymore than that though, you doubted she even could.

"O-oh." She whimpered, looking down at her lack of a chest. The shock of being shot through her other tit and straight through the chest was probably too much for her nerves to handle at this point. 

She paid three-thousand-seven-hundred and eighteen dollars for her implants and they were gone in one night. Talk about a waste.

"Fuck," She drawled, her voice gurgling as her lungs filled with blood, not even looking up at her killer, "My other.." her words grew quieter and slower. "Tit." She whispered as her neck began to refuse to support her head. Her head fell forwards and lulled to the side. She didn't move after that.

Alexis Harrison was dead.

In the doorway to the outside stood the now, filthy with viscera, frowny fuck. The rifle that shot through Alexis' chest point-blank in hand. His head slowly turned, baggy mask shifting, **"Do not go outside,"** He tutted, lowering his gun, **"Run."**

Jen and you were frozen, legs shaking. You felt like the hallways walls were closing in, your breaths grew shorter and you felt lightheaded. She reached out to you to ground herself, her hot sticky hand closing around your wrist and you finally tore your eyes from Alexis' body. She was covered from head to toe, she looked like Carrie White drenched in pigs blood, but twice as traumatized and three times more likely to fall over and puke. Your gaze slowly shifted to the masked killer. 

He stepped away from the door on to the porch, the place he had murdered Alexis for trying to go. He was telling you to go about your original plan but with another reminder that going outside was forbidden. His form dissipated into the inky darkness of the night. Not being able to see him, not knowing exactly where he was, filled you with gut-wrenching horror. 

He wanted to play alright. Did he want this? Did he leave the door ajar just so he could make a sick example of whoever tried to escape? You didn't want to play anymore, you never wanted to. You didn't want to make bets on his leniency anymore. The fact that you did so in the first place, like you had the enigmatic man all figured out in the first place, was a stupid mistake. A mistake Alexis payed for with her life. 

Jens vice-like grip on your wrist pulled you back to reality. "We need to move," She explained, no softness to her voice, "Now."

She didn't wait for a response as she tugged you forward. She released your wrist, if you wanted to follow her, you would have to do it yourself. 

You followed behind her mindlessly. After she freed you from your shock, your mind went blank for a few moments. Jen stepped over Alexis body, not sparing a glance at the door which blew in a cool nights breeze. For all she knew, the hooded man could be waiting to blow her brains out too. She just moved forwards like she didn't give a damn. 

When you came to the body, you forced yourself to not look at her broken chest. Bile rose in your throat as you carefully stepped over her legs. The breeze from the outside blowing on your side. Part of you screamed it was the hooded mans breath and a fresh pump of adrenaline pulsed through your body. You didn't look to check. 

Once you were past the body, a hot stream of vomit forced itself from your mouth. You wretched a moment, putting a hand on the slick wall for support. You watched Jen's marching form a moment before your head was forced down by another river of vomit. It burned your throat as it rushed from your stomach to the bloody floor. Gasping for air, tears dripped from your eyes. This fucking sucks; jen's ramen did not taste good a second time. 

You chased after Jen, clutching your aching stomach. You completely forgot about the pain from your tumble down the stairs. She turned into a room and you followed her inside. 

You couldn't recognize the personal items in the room. Your foggy mind just understood it was a bedroom of one of your companions. You didn't want to know who. Jen shut the door behind you as quietly as she possibly could. She flicked the lock. You both stood in silence in the dark room. 

You both understood that you needed to hide. The hooded one probably watched you enter the room. If he didn't, it wasn't like finding which room you both occupied would be hard. Yours was the only locked door with two distinct pairs of bloody foot prints leading up to it. It would be painfully obvious. 

You heard her pad away from you and feel around the room. You put your hands in front of you, feeling like a fucking mole. You heard a slow shutter and the shifting of fabric. The closet. You respected the rules of hide and seek that you learned from a young age and went to find your own hiding spot. Without light your options were limited. 

Your hands found the soft blankets of a bed. You lowered yourself to your belly and slid your body beneath it. It was a cliche spot to hide. You didn't want to think about what they'd do to you when they inevitably find you. You crawled as close to the wall beside the bed as you could and pressed yourself into it. A childish hope deep in your mind told you everything would be okay. Much like Alexis before she died, you didn't believe the sentiment. 


	5. 4 - I Hate Your Guts, You Spineless Bitch

_The inside door of your locker was bare. It felt unfamiliar. Three weeks before it was lined with Polaroids of Jen and you, heart shaped stickers, and movie tickets of the latest slasher flick you saw together. Now all that stared back at you was the muddied teal metal and residue from the tape you used to keep the photos up. It was barren, yet so ugly._

_Averting your eyes from the inside of the door, you shoved your thick history textbook into your locker. You stepped back, grabbing the lockers door, and slammed it shut._

_Jen stood in your view where the door once was. Looking at you expectantly. Your lips turned downwards, averting your gaze, and pushed the chunky lock hanging from the blue metal door shut._

_"(Y/n)."You turned on your heel, turning your back to the girl. Her voice was horse,"Wait up."_

_The final bell had rung minutes before and you had to walk your sorry-ass home. You didn't have time to waste. The walk home was dauntingly long. No one could drive you home today and if you took the bus you ran the risk of Jen pushing her body next to yours and talking at you for the forty minute ride. You had your license but you couldn't drive without an adult to supervise you._

_You didn't look back at the girl that trailed behind you._

_There was a thick stream of teenagers slowing you both down. You did your best to not push anyone as you slipped past them. Occasionally getting pushed by a rouge backpack that someone haphazardly walked with._

_You hoped people wouldn't take pity on her and clear the way for her to walk past them easier. Everyday with the student body was a roll of the dice for her. Some days people were understanding of her condition and overly compensated for the cruelties of the other students. You wanted to beat the shit out of the snot-nosed assholes that picked on her but you never did. You still wanted to despite your circumstances._

_"Hey!" Jen called out over the hustle and bustle ,"(Y/n)!"_

_You reached schools dirty glass front doors first. You exited the building behind a line of disinterested teenagers. Now that you weren't in the cramped halls and out in the open, weaving between the dissipated crowd would be much easier._

_"(Y/n)!!" Jen called out from inside the school, she sounded desperate for your attention.  
You weren't in the position to give it to her. It was what had to be done. She just couldn't let go. Granted, you couldn't either but you hid it better. _

_You had to. A week after the incident you'd glanced longingly at Jen in Mathematics. After school, Dan dragged you behind the gym bleachers to lightly rough you up for even daring to think about talking to her. He reminded you with a pull of the hair that this was the way it had to be. He was right. You couldn't associate with one another anymore for the best. God damn though, did it hurt. The emotional pain and Dan throwing you to the laminate wood floor._

_You power-walked away from the school. Jen’s calls followed you into the parking lot where you passed car after car. Some were beat to hell and back and others were scarily pristine. You continued, making your way across the parking lot as Jens pleading voice made chase._

_The dead grass beneath your scuffed sneakers crunched as you began to walk on it. A long trail of the yellowed grass stretched alongside the newly paved road. Telephone poles lined the path ahead that disappeared into the horizon. The dry spring heat beating down on your skin. It was going to be a long walk home._

_"(Y/n)!" Jens house was the other way. You didn't know what she thought she was doing. Dan was home sick and couldn't pick her up. The buses would leave any second and her walk home would be unbearably long especially with the heat and her thick back brace._

_You picked up the pace, internally pleading with her to hobble back to the parking lot and take the bus home. "(Y/n)! Stop! Talk to me!"_

_You pushed forward, taking in hot hissing breath. You couldn't do this. If you looked at her, you know you'd cave. The few glances you'd gotten of her at school shot through your heart. Hearing her pleading to talk to you, knowing she was chasing after you despite the difficultly, it weighed heavy on your guilty conscious._

_"Please!" You didn't look back but her voice had the telltale crack of someone crying. "I know we all agreed to keep our distance from each other but please just let me get this off my chest." You herd her hiccup and take in a few shaky breaths. You slowed you power-walk to a regular walk._

_You were a guilty bastard, but you weren't a heartless one. You heart weighed you down, drowning you in your self hate and disgust. You slowed for her sake but also as a fucked up way of emotional self harm. You would let yourself hear what she had to say so you could hurt even more. You knew you deserved it. You wouldn't let her reconnect with you, you'd burn the remains of that motherfucking bridge to ashes._

_She deserved the world and a piece of cake. She deserved better then you. She deserved to air out her grievances with you. You prepared yourself for a merciless onslaught of blame and hatred._

_"I've been hopelessly in love with you since freshman year!" Jen screamed out, not caring about the people that stared at the car wreck of your relationship as they passed in their vehicles._

_You froze, a dumbfounded look on your face and a knot of thoughts that you couldn't untangle._

_She paused her confession as she caught up with you. Now standing a few feet away, she continued behind you,"I know that we can't be together but God--_ _(Y/n), I love you so fucking much!" She let her words melt together as she pushed them from her lungs._

_Your eyes stung as they began to water and your lips twitched into a pained grimace. This hurt worse than any insult she could throw at her._

_"I know that Daniel said it's for the best," She paused, "But my entire life people have been telling me what to do." She began to reach out a hand, "My parents, Daniel, my doctors, the kids at school, they all have directed my life in such a shitty fucking way. I can never make choices for myself because people always assume what's best for me and treat me like I'm fucking made of glass."_

_She put a hand on your shoulder. The thin fabric of your t-shirt seperated you both from truly touching. Her hand felt like a hot brand over your clothing, you didn't pull away. It hurt and you deserved it._

_"You never did." That wasn't true. You made the decision to follow Dan's orders and stay away from her and the others. You made your choice and it affected her horribly.  
"I want to take my future in my hands. I want you in my life. I want you in my future. I want to hold your hand and walk into the fucking sunset with you."_

_Your fists closed, clenching uncomfortably while you dug your nails into your palms. You wanted to run away from this shitty town with her. You also wanted to run away from her. Every single time you saw her after that night you wanted to wretch. Her pitying gaze. Her hands sliding over yours. The rock she helped you hold above your head. Her breath on your neck. The blood on your face._

_Anger bubbled in your gut. This would have been so much easier if she just let you kill Isaac yourself. You hated yourself that you welcomed her touch in the moment. It sullied your view of her. You hated yourself for being a murderer. Part of you hated her for the same reason. Why did she have to that? Why did she have to fuck things up so badly? Why didn't she just stand and stare in shock? She deserved the whole world and a piece of cake but for what she did, she didn't deserve you. Not anymore._

_"We can be together in secret!" Her absurd suggestion pulled you from your racing thoughts, your building resentment and anger. "We only have to hide around for a year before we both graduate. We can save money all year! We can get out of this town!" She was delusional, there's no rest for the wicked. "We can move away to Maine! We can build snowmen and dance stupidly out in the blizzards like we always dreamed of!" The past was the past, you didn't want to move to Maine anymore. "We can live in some shit hole apartment for years and save money for a one story house. A little one that never feels cramped because I'll be with you and you've never suffocated me." Her hand burned hotter through your t-shirt._

_You couldn't take it. You loved her so much. You wanted to turn around, accept her offer, and kiss her. You hated her so much. You wanted to turn around and punch her._

_At you silence she continued to try to reason with you,"Please, (Y/n). We can do it. Please. For me. I know you want to." You could her her hick and sob but you didn't turn to comfort her._

_"You don't know what I want." You exclaimed evenly. You had to push her away because you hated her but because you loved her even more. This was for the best._

_"I've known you since we were kids!" She cried, calling your bullshit._

_"People change," You responded coldly, the skin of your palms were pierced by your nails,"That night we all changed. I don't like the new me--"_

_"Then we go back how things used to be!" Jen pleaded, her grip on your shoulder tightening. It made your skin crawl. You couldn’t erase what happened, you couldn’t go back no matter how much you wanted to._

_"-And I hate the new you." You continued. Her grip loosened, you took a step forward letting it slide off of you.  
"Forget about me. Forget about us," You started to walk again, not looking back, "Move on. You have it good enough being waited on hand and foot by everyone around you. You could make new friends, but you never fucking do because you were so obsessed with me." That wasn't true but you spat it venomously anyway, you wanted to hurt her as much as possible, only armed with words. "You are a pathetic fucking freak who got blood on both of our hands. Every single time I look at you I want to vomit because of what you did, what I did, what we did. We are disgusting and we both deserve to fucking rot." You let your teen angst poor freely, taking your anger out on the quietly sobbing girl. "I'd rather get fucking gutted then go anywhere with you. I hate you."_

_You couldn't stop thinking of that night. The one before everything went to shit. The spark of joy in her eyes, her tender touch, her soft words._

_You also couldn't stop thinking of after the incident. Dan and Henry cutting up Issac's body with a garden saw; the wet sounds of meat, the snapping of bone, the blood caked under your fingernails._

_Jennifer Baker came into your life and became your shining sun. You were a beacon of hope for her; an escape from Dan, an escape from pitying gazes, an escape. You tried to walk out of hers but she didn't want to let go. Not without getting the last word._

_"Oh, fuck you." Jens voice was horse and weak. "You God damn coward," you could hear her walking behind you, “You're almost as much of a piss baby as Michael. You're fucking spineless, you know that?"_

_She was right._

_"That's funny coming from the bitch with the fucked up spine." You hissed out a retort, it was a low blow and you knew it._

_"Woooooow!" You could practically hear her rolling her eyes, "How original!" Her tone sarcastic and condescending, "I thought you were different. I thought you fucking cared about me. I thought you loved me too! But no-" She paused letting her words hang in the air,"You're just a fucking hopeless coward. I'm giving you a plan, an out, and you spit it back in my face. You're kicking a cripple while she's down ya'know?" She almost laughed, she hated when people called her that, "You're afraid of what we are!" She was really playing the homophobia card, huh? " You're scared of getting beat up a little. You're scared of petty judgments. You're a coward, you always have been. You're so scared of what my brother will do to you if he finds out about us-“_

" _There is no us, Jennifer!" You pulled out her full name, it felt alien on your tongue, "Drop your childish dreams and face reality. Life is unfair and fucked up. It's as simple as that." Your steps were loud as you stomped along the crunchy grass path._

_"You don't think I know that?!" She laughed, “My entire life has been a shit show! I've got a messed up back, my brother hates me because my parents show basic fucking concern for me, people either pity me or pick on me! Now I'm a fucking murder and the love of my life is being a little bitch!"_

_"You don't love me!" You angstily replied, kicking a pebble in your path, “You're in love with the idea of me. You love that I'm a decent human being. You don't love me for me!" That was a lie._

_Jen gasped, her face was probably red and slick with tears,"I am not that shallow and you know it!“_

_"Yes you fucking are. Just leave me alone already you God damn freak!" Hot angry tears had been slipping down your cheeks for some time now. "We can't be together and we don't love eachother. We never have. Get over it!"_

_Lies, lies, lies. In your enraged state, you couldn't think clearly and let every intrusive thought you'd ever had about her fly free._

_"After everything we've been though, you're just going to let this go?" She sounded as hurt as she was angry._

_You didn't respond and kept your eyes ahead. The telephone poles and dead grass blurring together as tears clouded your vision._

_She didn't say anything else after that. The only sound you heard were your stomping steps. You didn't look over your shoulder to see if she stood frozen and crying. Fuck Jennifer Baker for making this harder than it had to be._

_You marched forward for an unknown amount of time. The only thing keeping track of the time was the sun crossing the sky as the moments ticked by. You weren't even close to home yet. Not even half way._

_You stumbled over your own feet, with a explanation of, "Shit!"_

  
_You hit the ground face first. The grass dug into your sensitive reddened skin. That's when everything you said dawned on you. Your thick veil of foolish, angsty, anger lifted._

_Face hurting like hell and regret deep in your bones, you let yourself loudly sob into the ground. Giving the grass some much needed moisture. You regretted every Goddamn syllable, every venomous lie, not looking back at her._

_It's for the best if you hated each others guts._

_You didn't hate her. She didn't hate you. You were two self destructive empty husks of people. You both hated yourselves more than anything. Pushing each other away in the way you did was a mutual act of self hate. You regretted it._

_**\----** _

The thing about being in a shitty situation is that every passing second feels longer. You felt like hours were ticking by as you waited for your probably gruesome death. It made you reflect on your life choices. Your childhood. Your first few years of high school as an awkward teen. The murder. The aftermath. Getting accepted to an out of state college. Leaving Tuscaloosa without saying so much as a goodbye to anyone you knew aside from family. 

Your mind wandered to the woman in the closet. Back to the last real conversation you had before ignoring each other for a whole year before you left. You didn't know if you wanted to take it all back. You regretted the stupid and shitty things you said but it led to where you are now. Not literally, as you were hiding under a bed from a trio of masked psychotic men. The incident set your life on a different path. You never thought you'd go to a nice college, work towards a degree in something you really cared for, have a whole appointment to yourself. The incident turned you away from your dead-end hometown, making you work hard to leave it all on your own. You were basically a fully functional adult, a good member of society! 

That didn't change the cards that you'd been dealt though. Your adult life was beginning but it was probably about to end in the shittiest way possible. Talk about tragic.

You wondered if Jen was thinking about you too. 

**_Knock, knock._**

The sound that had tormented you all night made you jump and hid your head against the beds frame. There was a dull ache that you mostly ignored over the sheer wave of fear that washed over you.

"I know you're in there," A gruff voice sung from the other side,"Won't you please let me in?" The voice begged, his tone seeped in a false sense of caring.

Obviously, you both said nothing in response. It did nothing as the man behind the door very much knew you were there. You practically led a trail of breadcrumbs.

"You'd better let me in," The voice dropped sinisterly, its clear amusement gone and the only emotion you could make out was pure blood lust,"Or I'll huff.." There was a loud stomping. "And I'll puff..." The voice sounded a bit quieter; was he backing up? "And I will break this fucking door down." You almost didn't catch the last part.

**_Thud, thud, thud! CRACK!_**

The sound of wood splitting and whining as the door was ripped from its hinges filled the room.

You gasped involuntarily. He had to have heard. 

The lights were flipped on. A faint yellow stream of light invaded your hiding spot, the light making you cringe. "Now..." He sounded incredibly amused,"Where are you hiding?" 

He knew damn well where you both were. The bloody footsteps and scuffs on the floor told him everything he needed to know. He just wanted to play with you first. 

It was starting to really piss you off. Not only did he feel the need to kill you all for some reason but he also had to fuck with you. Killing you was one thing, an inexcusable thing, but being an ass about it was another. You weren't going to stupidly act on that anger though. You weren't a hero. You were just going to let things play out and fight like hell if you had to. Though, you weren't very confident in your ass kicking abilities.

"Are you here!?" You saw the mans boots run over to what you assumed was the dresser. He threw the thing from its spot against the wall and into the middle of the room. The wood creaked and shuttered on impact. "How about under here?" The blankets of the bed above you were torn off and thrown to the floor. He was fucking with you, alright. "Ooh..." The man pretended to realize. "You're..." You saw the blood and bits of flesh on his boots as they stood only a foot away. "In here!" He opened the cabinet to the bedside table, where the average adult couldn't fit in. 

"Mm," He sounded like a kid who'd been told to eat their veggies,"Guess you're not in here!" He chirped. 

What was he playing at?

He turned on his heel, his boots producing a cringe inducing squeak. The bloodied shoes walked away from you, they approached the end of the bed and were turned to the rooms exit.

Was he really going to leave you there? When he knew damn well where you both were?

_"Sike."_

A hand was suddenly around your ankle with a bone-crushing grip. Of course he wouldn't leave. You were dragged from under the bed at break neck speed, you didn't even have time to struggle. 

You screamed as your entire body was removed from your hiding spot.

"Gotcha'!" It was Masky, his dark hair falling into the black eyes of his mask as he glared down at you. 

He dragged you across the room with little to no effort. With your free hand you grabbed the frame of the door to the room. It took everything in you not to scream out for Jen; you knew she couldn't do anything, you knew she wasn't going to play the hero, but your eyes shot to the closet door and quietly pleaded with her to do something, anything. 

The harsh tug on your ankle was so hard that you were forced to let go of the door, your hands clasping desperately on the now empty air. You shot your tearful gaze to the man dragging you into the bloody hallway. He looked as relaxed as he could be, he even had his back to you as he dragged you along.

You didn't know what he wanted to do to you, but you weren't keen to find out. Pulling your lips into a teeth-bearing snarl, you gripped your dull kitchen knife. You weren't going down without a fight. You'd make him regret underestimating you, which was honestly understandable on his part, but still rude.

You used your free leg to give yourself the leverage you needed. You curled up from your laying position and with a animistic growl of desperation, you pushed yourself up with your free hand. The knife flew through the air and straight into his upper left thigh.

It didn't go as far in as you'd hoped as the knife was hardly that sharp, but your hysterical adrenaline fueled strength made up for it. Goddamn it felt good to stab him. 

**_"YOU FUCKING WHORE!"_** He screamed hoarsely, sounding possessed. 

The pain shooting up his leg was enough for him to drop your ankle entirely. You wasted no time and scrambled to your feet and ran past the man. He made no move to capture you as he was preoccupied with tearing the knife from his leg.

You bolted down the hallway, not looking back at the now enraged man. The worst about your current situation thing wasn't running for your life. It was having to jump over Alexis dead legs and the little slide you did in her slowly coagulating blood as you landed. Struggling to keep your footing, but knowing that if you fell it would be the end of the line for you. 

You wanted out of the house desperately, eyeing the door to the balcony that was still ajar, but that door was a death sentence. The hooded man was probably lying in wait for you, rifle trained at the door with a smile beneath his frowning mask. So, you moved towards the stairs.

As the stairs grew closer, you remembered your fall and did your best to slow down, just enough to not fall down them but kept enough speed to pretty much fly down them. Masky's heavy footsteps began to trail you, not even a sign of a limp or struggle.

How the fuck was he running with a leg wound?

**_"ROGERS! FUCKING STOP HER!"_** Masky demanded from the hallway as you reached the bottom of the stairs.

Rogers, goggle boy, sat casually on one of the couches. Feet resting on the unconscious or dead Dan’s back; his body still draped over the broken coffee table. Michael stood awkwardly behind the couch, literally twiddling his thumbs.

The goggled boy laughed, head turning as he watched you run for the kitchen, flashing you a thumbs up, “Good luuh-luck!"

You skidded around the corner, hearing behind you, “She really guh-got you good, huh?" 

_**"SHUT THE FUCK UP!"**_ Masky roared at the boy, giving chase. You heard 'Rogers' cackle. 

You sped into the dining room; Masky hot on your trail. There was no way you could open the sliding door without him catching you. You needed to distract him or fuck him up.

You continued to run, the ceasing footsteps behind you filling you with a cautionary fear. You rounded yourself around the dining room table, it was still set, dirty dishes and empty cans littering its surface. Only a short time ago you all sat together, now some of you were dead.

Masky stood in the kitchens doorway, standing still and staring you down. You felt small under his piercing gaze. He'd snapped from a enraged juggernaut to still and quiet too fast. Something was up. 

Maybe the hooded one was already waiting to gun you down the second you tried to escape. Maybe Masky had figured out what you had; that you couldn't simply gun it for the door, you had to fight your way out. Either way, his stillness sent a shiver down your spine and a fist to your guts.

He stalked forward, every step planted deliberately. You couldn't handle the newfound silence, your body jumping at every heavy foot fall of his boots. 

He stopped before the end of the table and tilted his head to the side. You stood at opposite ends of the dining room table, it was a rectangular barrier that probably wouldn't do much. Your hands shook and your breaths were short.

You believed that he wanted you scared. He wanted you hopeless. He was doing this instead of further showing you his rage because his silence was unpredictable. The unknown was terrifying.

You had to break your creepy staring contest.

"I really wish," You began with an uneven smile that stuttered when he tiled his head even further, "That I was drunk right now." Your dominant hand found one of the empty cans and began to slowly inch it off the table, "But this bitch empty.." He didn't move, he just kept staring you down. You weren't going to feel bad about this. 

You sprung into action, rearing your arm back just to swing it forwards, realizing the can from your grip with a sound of effort, " _YEET!"_

The can went wide to the left, missing the masked man by a pathetic amount. Masky swung his body around to watch the can hit the kitchen counter, roll towards its edge, and clatter onto the floor. Still turned from you he began to cackle.

You liked the quiet better then his laugh. You were embarrassed and belittled by his laughter, it brought fire to your veins. He was so happy, carefree even, after he fucking bludgeoned Henry. You'd show that bitch carefree. 

You snatched a ceramic bowl from the table, a few stay strands of ramen sat at the bottom. 

"Nice throw, dumb ass!" He chortled, shoulders shaking. 

"Thhhh-that was puh-pretty pathetic." Rogers was leaning on the kitchen wall. In the kitchen doorway, you could make out the traitorous, rat-faced fuck, Michael behind him. You could only assume he walked in to watch the fireworks. 

With an amused breath, "I know right!" Masky exclaimed. 

With a yell, you let the bowl fly from your fingertips as the man turned back towards you. 

**_Crack!_**

The dirty bowl found its mark, hitting a place you didn't think it would, but it brought you a rush of joy a breathy laugh leaving your lips. The bowl had hit him right in the nose, shattering to bits on his false face. He stumbled back a step, throwing a gloved hand to his now cracked porcelain nose.

" _You bitch."_ He didn't scream, he just growled out the words, malice dripping from his voice like the stray ramen noodles on his mask.

You got the same feeling in your gut that you got whenever you'd fail a quiz in high school. Knowing that your parents knew and that when they got home from work, you were _so dead._ The same feeling but so much worse.

Masky may have been absolutely full of rage but Rogers had his hands on his knees. He was doubled over and heaving as he let out howling laughter. If you could see his eyes, he'd probably be crying. 

A little smile over your, mostly insignificant victory, formed across your lips. You reached a hand out for another bowl.

Before you could, Masky swung his crowbar across the table. It didn't come close to you at all but it threw empty cans and bowls against the wall. The side of the table he didn't reach was dragged down with the raggedy table cloth that caught upon the end of his crowbar. 

" _Oh no you fucking don't."_ He snarled cruelly, taking a step around the tables corner. " _I am going to rearrange your fucking guts."_

He stalked around the right side of the table slowly, you felt like cornered prey. You did what you always did in stressful situations, you opened your big mouth. "At lea-least dinner and a muh-movie first." You panted out, sounding incredibly unconfident. 

Rogers laughter continued while he slapped his thigh.

"You think you're so fucking funny, huh?" He growled out, Rogers laughter only seemed to fill him with more rage. 

"She really does!" Michael's nasally voice cut through the tense moment. 

"Shut the fuck up!" You barked out without thinking. The cowardly man didn't have the right to side with the killers; him joining in on your verbal abuse just rubbed salt in the wounds that Henry and Alexis' deaths left on your mind. "You fucking piss baby!" You continued, eyes on Masky as you both circled slowly around the table. 

You were so fucking mad. So fucking helpless. _So fucking dead_. Might as well air out your last grievances with the man.

"You've always been a spineless worm, you know that? You do anything people tell you to as long as it helps you. You've always been a selfish, ugly, cockroach." You spat, face red, "Betraying us? Not cool, but Henry? You two were best friends in high school! You could have helped us all have a chance to get out of this but _nooooooo_ , you were a Goddamn clown and cut the telephone cord." You wanted to look at the cut cord for emphasis but you didn't want to take your eyes off of Masky's form for a second. "If I had the chance," you shook your head with a hiss, "I'd fucking castrate you." You wouldn't but you said it anyway.

"Ooooohh!!!" Rogers sounded like a middle school boy seeing his first fight,"Shuh-shuh-shes mad! You'd bbbuh-better watch out Masky!" He shook his hands while they were shaped into mocking claws. 

"Shut the fuck up and take care of that little prick already!" Masky hissed, continuing your dining room stand off.

"But I want to wuh-watch!" Rogers cried childishly with a roll of his shoulders and a crick of the neck.

"Take care of.." Michael said dumbly, pointing a fat finger at himself. He gasped, the realization everybody else had come to finally dawning on him. He turned away from hatchet boy, horror across his features.

_**B A N G !**_

_"GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!"_ Michael's screech of pain filled your ears. You looked in the direction of the horribly familiar sound. 

Michael's tubby body was pushed face first against the kitchen island. His face contorting in on itself in twisting agony. The back of his left knee was a red mess of exposed fat and tendons. The wound sprayed blood behind the waste of oxygen. 

He was crying and gasping through he pain. Thick streams of tears began to plummet down his pimply cheeks. Somehow, he looked even more pathetic. The sight was gruesome; seeing someone's insides for the third time still made you deeply grimace. The pain must be unbearable, maybe he can't feel the area below his knee. Either way, good. He deserved it more than anyone.

The hooded man took a step forward; his shadow casting over Michael's quivering slug-like form. The man was still covered in gore from Alexis, the rifle still smoking in his hand. 

"Nuh-no!" Michael gripped the side of the kitchen island and tried to drag himself away, just a few inches. "We made a deal!" He cried out, voice cracking up an octave, shrill and desperate. 

**"Idiot."** The deep altered voice sighed, slinging the rifle around his torso and let it fall behind his back. He didn't even bother to turn the safety on.

"I did everything you told me to!" He looked to Rogers, pleading, "I even let you inside!"

**"You really would do anything for us, hm?"** The tall man questioned, taking a step forwards the crumpled man.

"Yes, anything!" Michael nodded desperately, stopping his pitiful attempts to move to look up pleadingly at the man.

**"Anything? Really?"** The robotic voice had an edge to it; you couldn't tell if it was disgust or amusement but it made your stomach churn.

"Anything!" Michael sniffled, not daring to shift his weight, his decimated knee filling him with pure agony anytime he moved so much as an inch. "Absolutely anything!" 

**"Mh."** The tall man tapped his foot on the bloody floor, seeming to consider something for a moment. 

**"Then die."** He spoke as evenly as his voice changer would allow.

"Wait! No--" Michael tried to turn to fully face the hooded man to hold his hands up defensively.

A steal-toed boot collided with the side of his head and harshly slammed his thick skull into the side of the kitchen island. Michael let out a guttural scream, eyes bulging. The hooded man reared his foot back a few inches just to bring it full force onto the mans head.

Michael slumped over, somehow still conscious despite the head trauma. His beady eyes meeting your shocked gaze, twitching and unfocused.

"(Y/n), please. I'm sorry." He reached out a hand towards you. 

The sheer audacity of his actions threw a foul snarl on your lips. You looked down at his pathetic attempt at reconciliation and shook your head. He deserved whatever horrible fate he got dealt. You said what you needed to already and you didn't want the massive mans attention. 

The hooded man positioned himself above Michael's laying form. Michael struggled to hold himself up, the pain in his knee being far too distracting. A bloodied boot on either side of his head. 

"NO!" Michael looked up at the being that towered over him. 

He responded by lifting his boot and bringing it down on the top of Michael's head. His head hit the floor with a resounding slap and a crunch.

Michael blubbered out offerings of money and pleas at the man above him. The head trauma had gotten to him though. His words were incoherent and you could only string together what he meant from the few words that were properly pronounced. 

His boot was brought up again. Michael screamed and cried in his confused desperation, blood gurgling from his mouth, his eyes swollen shut. The boot further shoved his head into the floor. You could see his greasy hair begin to dip into the dent forming on the back of his skull. He only let out rasping whispers of pained breath. The same boot was brought down again. The dent deepening but not yet showing his insides. Again. With a wet ' _shlap_ ' and loud ' _snap'_ Michael's head opened beneath the frowny faced killer, the heel of his boot sinking into the viscera of his head. 

It split open unevenly, like a fucked up watermelon being burst open with the force of a hundred rubber bands. Shattered bits of his skull stuck to the skin of his scalp and hung limply around his exposed cerebral matter. His greasy ginger hair laid in knotted clumps inside the pink and red mush. Creating a filthy, warm color pallet that any painter would be jealous of. 

Michael deserved it, you reasoned with yourself. Your churning stomach disagreed and screamed at you for watching the sick display of power.

You felt a tap on your shoulder as you store dumbfounded at the mans corpse. You whipped around with a shocked gasp. In the moment, you completely forgot about the doll-faced, angry man, with a fucking crowbar. He was, _oh so kind enough_ to let you watch your hated acquaintance get his skull crushed. The sick fuck didn't kill you yet so you'd be even more traumatized before he'd slaughter you.

"Where were we?" You were met with a blood spayed, cracked, black and white mask inches away from your head. "We were so rudely interrupted, I didn't get to finish you off yet!" His tone was sickeningly sweet. 

You jumped away from him, eyes darting for a possible escape. There was none. The gun-toting hooded man and Rogers blocked the exit to the kitchen. The backdoor sat unguarded but you knew the masked man would grab you any second now. Even if you did avoid him, the hooded one would shoot you point blank, or worse, you'd get a hatchet embedded in your flesh. 

There was no witty, yet fearful, comment coming from you. You throat felt like it was sealing itself shut. The masked trio just observed your shell shocked state. You wondered how you were going to die. Would it just be Masky? Or would they all take part in your slaying? The possibilities felt endless.

You hoped it would be quick and painless. But hope had gotten you nowhere tonight and you knew it.

**_"HEY DICKBAGS!"_**


	6. 5 - Magnet for bodily harm

_The Bakers' driveway was fry an egg hot. The sun mercilessly beat down on your skin, you were covered in sweat just from standing there. The blacktops heat seared through the soles of your scuffed sneakers._

_"I said, 'Shut the fuck up'!" You repeated the command at the older teen. "You don't know what you're talking about!" You snarled nastily at Dan._

_You both were in a loud verbal stand-off in the driveway of his and Jens family home. You had come over to spend the night but Jen and her parents had to make a quick trip to the grocery store. They didn't like to leave her home alone despite the fact that she was sixteen and could easily take care of herself. They'd always insisted on escorting her everywhere. Unless it was at school, for the sole purpose of them not being allowed inside and having jobs._

_Usually, the front door was unlocked whenever they knew you were coming over; even if they wouldn't be home. They put a lot of trust in you that you didn't dare, or want to, betray. Today though, they forgot to leave the door unlocked. They always had been paranoid about someone getting inside and snatching their little girl away; so they never kept a spare key under their welcome mat, that read in faded black letters 'Live, Laugh, Love'._

_Dan wasn't one to come home early. Seeing him waiting idly in the driveway when you got there was a surprise. He never hid the fact that he hated his family more than anything and always made an effort to not be home._

_He looked jacked up. An ugly purple and red swollen bruise sat atop his massive forehead. His bottom lip was busted open in a bright, angry red. He obviously wasn't in a good mood. He'd been more of an asshole the past few weeks._

_Your words hung in the air a moment. He looked taken aback. You usually let his words slide off your skin, they used to cut deep but over the years of knowing his ways, you began to take his insults with a grain of salt. You weren't one to talk back to him either. You both know how badly he could whoop your ass._

_Maybe it was the summer heat. Maybe there was something in the air. Maybe you were just fed up. And maybe, just maybe, you were in love with his sister._

_Dan bore his teeth at you, thin streaks of blood mixed with his saliva on his teeth. You really did it now._

_You began to raise your arms defensively. A fist collided with your face before you could fully realize your pitiful act of self defense. Your face snapped to the side with the impact, your body following suit. Before you know it, your feet were off the ground and your face spun towards the pavement._

_With an,"OOF!" you landed face-first into the driveway. Involuntary tears slipped from your eyes as the pain spread across your face. The scorching driveway wasn't any help either. After a second of being dazed, you scrambled on your hands and knees, the pavement feeling like it was going to melt your skin._

_Your non-dominant hand scraped against the blacktop, you hissed as you used it to further push you up the pavement. A layer of (s/c) skin peeled away from your hand, revealing a pinker tone beneath but not exposing your Muscle._

_Your hands, your knees, your nose, hurt like a motherfucker._

_"What's your fucking problem?" You snarled, a hand flying up to your nose. You couldn't stop the floodgates of rage opening. The fear of pain subsiding within you for a moment of brave stupidity._

_"MY problem?" Dan laughed sarcastically,"We should be talking about YOUR problem!" The hand that had smashed into your face was now inches from your face, pointing accusingly at you._

_You didn't know how to respond to that. He was the one in the wrong. You didn't have any problems beside being a teenage girl and a possibly broken nose._

_Your nose pounded and throbbed, you felt the thick weight of your own blood escaping from your nostrils. You mindlessly rubbed your thumb along your upper lip, smearing the blood across your face. It didn't look as intimidating or as cool or as poetic as the movies. It didn't feel that way either, just hot, sticky fluid on your already sweaty face._

_Dan continued, wildly gesturing his arms as he ranted,"You are so fucking willing to do anything for that manipulative little bitch!" You snarled, letting out a growl. "You are wrapped around her little fuckin' fingers and you know it! You look like you're smart," He stopped gesturing and looked at you with pure hatred, “But you're just another one of her mindless drones!"_

_You let out a nasty laugh, breathing from your mouth as your nose continued to ooze blood, some of it dripping hotly from your lips, “Have you ever considered that she's more likable than you? You're just some white dude who's going to peak in high school! I bet you're gonna go to all the class reunions and brag about how your important job but you really just operate forklifts!"_

_"And you're gonna go nowhere! You'll stay in this shit-fuck town with Jen forever, waiting on her hand and foot!" He shook his head, “If you knew what's good for you, you'd stop talking to her! She's a fucking black hole and almost everyone I've ever met got sucked into her life!" He admitted with a yell._

_"Ooh! I get it!" Your eyes crinkled in mock delight, "Mommy and Daddy don't care about you enough, huh?" You were just begging to get your face pounded in._

_Dan paused, his eyes holding a gleam of malice. He readied his fist to set you straight and your nose at a ninety degree angle to the side, "You don't know shit!"_

_Beep! Beep!_

_The cheerful honking of the Baker family mini-van tore both of your hateful gazes from one another. In the drivers seat you could see Mr. Baker, his name was John but he though Mr.Baker sounded cooler. Sally on the other hand was fine with being called by her name._

_You power-walked off the driveway as the car pulled onto the pavement and rolled to a stop. A hand cupping around your busted nose, it didn't hide much._

_Mr.Baker and Sally swung their car doors open. Sally made her way to open the back of the mini-van to retrieve groceries while Mr.Baker opened the sliding car door for his daughter._

_"(Y/n)! Good to," Sally picked up the reusable shopping bags with a grunt, "See you! How are ya, hun?" She chirped._

_"Dan, can you open the door?” Mr.Baker threw the keys to his very pissed off son. He didn't acknowledge his obvious rage._

_He didn't respond, he just stomped up the flower lined walkway to their front door._

_"I've been okay." Your voice had a nasally twinge, it made you cringe. "How are you?" You pushed out the nicety._

_"Good, good!" Sally chirped as she swung around the car and padded towards the house._

_"Take my hand, sweetheart." Mr. Baker cooed to his straight-faced daughter._

_Jen did as she was told. She always told you about how much she hated the way her parents coddled her, but whenever she brought up the issue they'd just tell her how ungrateful she is. She stopped fighting their crushing affection so much around a year ago. She still tried but rarely._

_She didn't look at her father as he hoisted her from her seat and out of the car. Her eyes darted to your scraped knees, then to your partially hidden face. "(Y/n)!" Jen called out, the second her feet hit the ground she rushed to you._

_"Hey Jen-" You started with furrowed brows, trying to further hide your nose. You didn't want to worry her. Her parents passed down their worrywart genes._

_She knew that you and Dan somewhat tolerated each other. You ignoring Dan for her sake and Dan being Dan._

_She snatched your wrist and pulled your hand away with a gasp,"What happened to you?!"_

_Dan walked towards the car, coming back to help bring in the groceries. You eyed one another for a moment._

_"I tripped." You lied evenly as Dan pushed past Jen, pushing her towards you._

_You stumbled back a step as she was shoved into you. Pulling away, she looked at you with a deep frown. "Lets get you inside and get Mom to look at your nose." Sally was a nurse. Which you found ironic, you heard stories from other friends parents about how Sally was a mega-bitch in high school. It's always the assholes that end up in those kinds of jobs._

_"Okay." You breathed out, turning towards the home._

_She knew you were lying. You knew she knew._

_**\----** _

A massive blurred body slammed itself into the giant hooded figure. You could tell by the gruff yell of rage that filled you with a bitter nostalgia, that it was Dan. 

" _Motherfucker!"_ Dan screamed, the hooded man stumbling to his hands and knees. The surprise of having a full grown man jumping on his back like an untrained bronco caught him off guard with a startled grunt.

If some edgy teen were there, recording the scene; they'd upload the video as a joke onto an unsavory website, not meant for children. It'd be titled something like ' _Masc Straight Guy Rides Huge Daddy.'_ It truly was a sight to see.

The gun-toting freak began to turn, trying to slam Dan onto the floor. Before he could, Dan brought up his hands, two fists intertwined and drove them into the back of the hooded mans head. There was a robotic grunt of annoyance as his head was knocked downwards but he didn't topple over a second time. The element of surprise had worn off.

While Dan was busy with the frowny fuck, you sprung into action. If he was fighting, you would too.

"Fuck off!" You screamed, throwing a fist towards Masky's throat. 

The leather of his glove felt cold and sticky around your wrist as he captured your arm without a second thought. His grip tightening alarmingly as he cocked his head at you mockingly.

"That's cute." His delighted voice muffled by the thick porcelain upon his face. 

Without any fanfare, he threw your body to the side, releasing your wrist from his grasp. You tumbled to the ground, rolling a few times on yours sides before you skidded to a painful stop. Your aching flesh from your earlier fall dully screamed at you. Your dominant hand scrambled to push your body from the floor but it fell onto something sharp that dug into your skin.

Pulling your bloody hand from the floor, you saw bits of the shattered ceramic bowl that Masky had thrown to the floor embedded into your flesh. You grunted harshly, slamming your hand back down to the floor and grabbing a fist full of ceramic shards. Your hand screamed and wailed at the sharp pain as the edges dug into your flesh like it was made of wet paper towels. 

You heard the sounds of a heavy struggle but your attention was on the quickly approaching masked man. With a hysterical scream, you pushed your body up with your empty hand and pushed your aching legs into action.

You only made it to a half standing position before you got a boot to your gut. Your back slammed into the glass sliding door with a resounding ' _THUD'._ Your breath was forced out of you with a strangled rasp, and you slid down the wall a bit before forcing your legs to support your weight. The same boot then shoved itself into the center of your stomach, pressing your back into the cool glass, not letting you inhale; you couldn't catch your breath.

Your freedom was right there. Right behind the glass you were pinned to.

He kept his filthy boot on your body, as the moments passed he just pressed it harder; pushing as much of his weight as he could into you. Your eyes bulged from their sockets as you let out a guttural grunt of pain, clawing helplessly at his foot. You felt like you were going to burst like a organ filled water balloon. 

**_B A N G !_**

**"FUCK!"** The altered voice screamed, filled with rage and agony. 

Masky's pushing ceased and he removed his boot from your body just enough that you could get your bearings; finally taking a long strangled breath, feeling your lungs rattling gratefully. You didn't look at the altercation going on nearby, you made that mistake one to many times, Dan was the least of your worries. With your free hand, you wrapped your hand around the ends of his pants. You shoved the fabric up, exposing his skin. Kinda hairy.

He turned his masked face your way, you had to act fast.

**_B A N G !_**

Another ricocheting crack filled your ears with ceaseless ringing. 

The near constant loud shooting with no protection damaging your hearing in the moment. The high pitched ringing in your ears nearly blocking out an angry, " _YOU'RE GONNA REGRET THAT!"_

You were dazed by the physical abuse and by the ringing in your ears but you were not deterred. You were determined to fucking live.

With a screaming growl, you opened your ceramic filled fist. Adrenaline blocking out the pain momentarily. You slammed your hand into the middle of his shin, right where the bone was closest to the skin. You dragged it down, still screaming. You were red-faced, with the rushing blood in your system and the literal blood that didn't belong to you on mingling your sweaty skin.

" _You little fucking bitch."_ He snarled, jerking his leg away from you. You crumbled forward before forcing yourself to quickly stand at your full height. Your stomach churning, threatening to throw out whatever bile was left in your gut. 

**_B A N G !_**

Another crack filled your ears, the ringing crescendoing, making you wonder if you would ever be able to hear after this. If there was an 'after this'. 

You could barely make out the childish tone of Rogers, " _QUIT IT!"_

"Stay down you twitching fuck!" Dan screamed. 

Your fight or flight instincts were in full throttle now. Despite all the injuries, the pain was dulled to a pounding ache due to the adrenaline. Your mind went to the door behind you immediately. Whipping around with break-neck speed, your good hand shot out for the lock. The small ' _click_ ' it made as you twisted it, sounded like the pearly gates warmly accepting you.

_"You don't get to go outside remember, fuckwad?"_ A hand grabbed you by the top of your head, curling around your (h/c) locks and ripping you from the door. His voice was dripping with barely contained rage, roughly pulling you backwards into his chest, " _I'm going to fucking impale you on this thing,"_ he swung his crowbar aside your head, tapping it lightly, teasingly on your temple. He then reared it above you both, ready to shove the dull end of the crowbar into your flesh wherever it landed. You struggled and squirmed trying to get out of his strong grasp, gasping as his hand in your hair tightened, holding you in place.

"DON'T YOU FUCKING DARE!" Dan roared. 

The man could have kill you right there, but instead he wanted to entertain the man behind him. You didn't know why, maybe he wanted to kill you before Dan's eyes, like Michael to you. 

Masky swung his and your body around, crowbar still raised. 

Before you, stood Dan over the hooded mans laying form, his left hand gripping the rifle tightly. The man's yellowish-tan hoodie that was soaked in the blood of others, finally, was decorated with his own. A bullet from his own rifle, lodged somewhere in his back. You couldn't really tell as hood was already covered in the sticky liquid, and the blast at point blank had torn most of the jacket Unfortunately, you could still see the rise and fall of his chest.

He was still alive. Probably only momentarily unconscious from the shock. These freaks were full of surprises, you didn't doubt that he'd be on his feet any second now. You didn't know if Dan didn't notice or if he intentionally spared the man. Maybe killing once in his life was enough for him, even if bastard totally deserved it.

Leaning on the kitchen island, partially laying on it, was goggle boy. He was still up and at 'em but he had to support his weight on the counter. A large chunk of his upper left thigh missing, you could make out the bloody bone, partially showing. Torn muscle was hard to make out as the wound was spurting with blood. There was a hole in his chest that oozed blood so thick it looked black. Other then, the giant gaping hole in his leg, and the bullet lodged between his ribs, he seemed fine. He seemed like he had just stubbed his toe and heaved over in mild discomfort. 

Rogers had a hatchet on the counter, resting beneath his hand, covered in Henry's now dried blood. He concentrated on balancing himself with his hands and hatchet, while Dan pointed the gun towards you and Masky.

"Nobody fucking move." Dan panted, skin absolutely painted with thick chunks of blood and skin and muscle. He held the smoking gun unevenly in his hands. All he knew was point, shoot, and the moving thing will stop moving. If the safety was on, you doubted that his meat head, dumb ass would figure out how to turn it off before getting fucked up.

"Well," Masky drawled, hand harshly gripping your hair, "I thought you were a total dud!" Shoving your body in front of him, you unevenly stumbled, his grip on your hair keeping you on your feet, "Hell, this one put up a better fight then you did!" He cackled. "But here you are tough guy! Good for you!" He insincerely congratulated before sneering, his voice dropping maliciously, _"Now what?_ "

"Let her go or I'll blow your fuckin' brains out." Dan brought the gun up, trying to aim his shaky hands at Masky. He'd never shot a gun before. Shooting the giant rifle point blank at his companions took a toll on his arms and shoulders. Point blank was easy enough; how can you miss? Masky was a few feet away though. If he was shot it'd still be considered point blank but the short distance meant he _actually_ had to aim.

Tilting his head, a smile probably playing on his lips. You'd bet they were chapped, you don't just go around bludgeoning people to death without being a crusty-ass bitch.

"Will you now?" He sounded like he was talking to a fourth grader who was showing him an unrecognizable rendition of a truck, mocking and uninterested.

"Yeah," Dan grunted, closing one eye, bringing the cross-hair shakily towards his cracked mask, "I fucking will." He probably didn't trust himself to shoot. You saw how heavily his hands were quaking, if he missed you were both dead.

There was a pause, you didn't know if you should claw at Masky's hand or not. "(Y/n)." Dan's voice pulled you from your deliberation. He had called you by your last name your entire life. He did that to everyone. It was odd. You also got a vomit inducing feeling in your gut, knowing the psychopathic men around you now knew your name.

Was this troglodyte going to genuinely try to use his words to get you out of this sticky (with blood) situation?

Masky's hand tugged on your hair, pulling you up a bit. He was telling you to talk, to entertain him.

"Yeah?" You breathed out, as casually as you could muster; noting the slight tremor in your voice. 

"Sorry about that one time I punched you in the face." Dan gave you a pitiful smile. He was scared and unsure of what to do. He wasn't in control of the situation and that was the one thing that had always rattled the burly man.

"That one time," you bitterly retorted with a laugh, trying to shift away from Masky's touch, "You punched me in the face way more then once. You're gonna have to clarify or apologize for every single one."

"Eh," he dismissed,"You're such a smart ass, ya'know?" He raised one a thick eyebrow.

"I know." Your eyes shot to the crowbar still raised above you, "You're such a dickhead ya'know?" You threw his words back in his face. It wasn't out of malice, completely, there was a bittersweet finality to your words. He was a piece of shit that beat you up through your teen years; a piece of shit who grew as a person in the three years you hadn't seen him. You still resented him for everything he'd ever done to you. Honestly, dying by his side wasn't how you saw yourself going out but the situation was shaping up to that horrid result. 

"I know." He echoed, a slight smile on his lips. 

The man he stood above began to stir. You could see his fingers start to twitch. Goggle boy was starting to get his bearings, hopping up onto his un-shot leg. Time was quickly slipping through your fingers.

This wasn't a half-baked escape plan anymore, was it? It was the final bitter sentiments between two pathetic excuses for final survivors. You began saying your ' _I love you_ 's and _'I'm sorry'_ s in your head to everyone you'd ever loved.

You didn't believe in Dan to save you. He probably didn't believe himself.

"(Y/n)?" Dan asked. The hooded mans hands curling into fists below as he began to shakily peel his blood soaked body from the floor.

"Yeah?" You cheeks felt so crusty with dried blood and tears, and it hurt to look down at Dan while Masky held your hair in a death grip. 

"This is probably it for us, huh?" He stated dumbly. Hatchet boy behind him beginning to hop towards him, brows downward and violently rolling his head. 

"Yeah." You couldn't stop repeating yourself. 

"I just want to know." He tried to train his aim precisely on Masky's head, if he was going down he was going to take the masked fuck with him. "Did you fuck my sister?"

_Does he fucking know about us? How?_

"What?" Your head shot forward and Masky rapidly pulled you back into place by the hair, a slight chuckle leaving his mouth; probably inaudible to anyone but you. The absurdity of the question had truly caught you off guard. You didn't wait for him to repeat himself, no time, "No." You answered earnestly, disbelief across your face, of course he'd ask something like that at a time like this.

"We kissed, the night before..." You stopped yourself, you couldn't believe they hadn't killed you both yet.

Did they want to watch the soap opera that was your last conversation? 

"Him."

**\----**

_"He's still alive!" Alexis exclaimed as she examined the boys twisted body. "Oh, thank God!"_

_"Call an ambulance!" Henry's parents had taken his phone away last week for saying 'Fuck bitches, get weed' in his Grandmothers presence._

_**"Don't you fucking dare."**_

_**\----** _

Your lips formed into a line, memories of your now, second worst night of your life, flooding your brain. With a shaky exhale, you continued, "It was just once," you admitted. You were finding it hard to look into her brothers eyes,"She didn't want to do anything else until we were," You made quotes with your hands," _'Official.'"_ You remembered your teenage pining with a bitter wistfulness. 

You couldn't read the expression on his face, "Good." He spoke evenly, which was uncharacteristically and a hard feat in your situation. "Just so we're clear, if you said yes I would shoot you too."

**_B A N G !_**

The ringing has just begun to fade so when Dan pulled the trigger to the rifle, you were a little mad. The bullet didn't hit Masky in the head like Dan intended, it hit him in the shoulder. 

That was good enough.

Masky let go of you, screaming and dropping the crowbar with a loud clatter. The hooded man, completely shot up from the floor, a fist smashing into Dan's crotch as he came up. Dan screamed, knees buckling as the hooded man made a grab for his stolen gun. Behind Dan, Rogers had finally hobbled behind him and had a hatchet raised high above his head, his other hand holding the spurting wound on his leg as it gushed from between his fingers. 

The glass sliding door cut through the sound of the men's battle cries. You turned away, your instincts kicking in. Masky threw his whole body towards you as you began to retreat. Your adrenaline filled self was too quick for the wounded man. His body slammed into the floor, causing the whole room to shutter. 

From the outside, the door swung open, revealing Jen. She was already turning and running off the back porch, and you intended on following her. 

_"FUCKS SAKE, PULL YOURSELVES TOGETHER AND GET THEM!"_ Masky's booming command followed you as you burst from the house.

You'd never been so glad to be outside. 

**_B A N G !_**

The cracking sound wasn't as loud this time, you weren't in the room with the gun anymore but it was still ear piercing. It was accompanied with guttural, animistic screams and loud curses. You hoped eventually the ringing would stop. 

The cool summer night breeze cooled your sticky, sweaty face. You were crying. You were smiling. You were running after Jen. You felt like a angsty, hormone fueled, stupid, teenager again.

**\----**

_"I said, I love you." Jen repeated with a warm smile as she handed you another tissue._

_You took it wordlessly, removing two wads of blood soaked tissues from your aching nostrils. You tore it in two, balled them up, and shoved them in your still bleeding nose. You brain acted automatically, you had completely mentally checked out. You couldn't fucking believe that Jennifer Baker was in love with you._

_"Even like this?" You asked dumbly as you looked aimlessly at her wall._

_Your hands clutching your knees while you swung your feet back and forth off the side of her bed. It was painted a muddy teal that she hated; so two summers ago, you both bought as many slasher movie, vaporwave aesthetic, and shitty band posters you could with what little pocket change you had. You hung the posters up for hours, trying to cover up the ugly paint as much as possible._

_"Even like that." A soft hand with each nail painted a different neon color rested on yours. Her other hand ghosted over your jaw. You leaned into her touch and let her turn your head towards her blushing face._

_Your mouth hung open a bit, you still didn't know what to say. You were fucking ecstatic, over the moon, in love. Dan was right. You were completely wrapped around her finger. You didn't mind at all._

_Acting before thinking, you leaned forward way too fast. Your noses collided before your lips did. You hissed in pain but you persevered, not wanting to ruin the moment. Turning your head slightly so your nose was out of the way of hers, yous lips finally met._

_She puckered her lips obnoxiously and you didn't pucker them at all. You both sat there unmoving, her hand resting tenderly on your cheek. Her warm saliva from her puckered lips seeped onto your lips. It was just like how everyone said it'd be; awkward, stiff, poorly done, yet somehow, amazing._

_She pulled away. You were a little disappointed but you still felt like a million dollars. She was grinning, her face a delightful pink._

_"I love you too." You confessed, you felt like you couldn't breathe but in a good way._

_"Girls!" Mr.Bakers voice cut through the moment from downstairs. You were glad that her parents weren't nosy and never barged in on you two. "Come down! Dinners ready! It's your favorite (Y/n)!"_

_Mr.Baker was always so considerate. When he saw your, thankfully unbroken, nose, scraped hands, and knees; he was beside himself with worry. He apologized profusely for his driveway you'd supposedly only fallen on. He must have made a special dinner for you because he felt the need to atone for the sins of his driveway._

_You looked into Jen's happily gleaming baby blues and raised your brows. "Should we go tell him?" You shot your thumb towards the door._

_"I think," She hopped off the bed, removing her hand from your face,"We should bake a cake tomorrow." She turned towards you grinning, one hand intertwined with yours,"We'll make an official announcement!" She gestured in an arc dramatically with her free hand._

_You giggled, you couldn't stop looking at her. She was perfect in every single way. She was different. She was beautiful. She was smart. She was resilient. She was Jennifer Baker and you loved her._

_"Sure, sure." You playfully rolled your eyes at the childish plan. It was so her._

_**\----** _

You tailed Jen as you ran alongside the house. She was always the more book-smart of you both; so you were banking on the idea that she was more street-smart as well.You both burst past the broken lot of cars, your eyes shot to your car. A pang of sadness hit you, it was kind of funny, you'd watched Alexis get shot point blank in the chest and didn't feel as bad as you did for your car. That told you that this night had really fucked you up.

Well, your car didn't bully you in high school. It had been with you through the past, nearly four, years. You couldn't count the amount of school induced breakdowns you had in that thing. The car played your playlists without turning off the weirder songs, unlike the occasional friend. You'd miss it. 

Also, that thing was so fucking expensive. Especially for a broke college kid.

You pushed yourself to move your legs faster. Out of fear of the men, most likely giving chase, and probably right behind you even though all three of them got shot. All of your limbs ached from your many tumbles as you flailed them about. They did not like the activity of running at fucking all. Your hand bled profusely, a few ceramic shards poking from your palm. 

"Why did you do that?" You asked yourself deliriously as you both sprinted into the forest lined trail. 

You should have been conserving your energy. Talking took a stupid amount of effort, but you did it anyway.

_"FINALLY! A KUH-KILL FOR TOBY! SCOOOOOOORE!"_ A sick cackle emitted from the cabin behind you. 

Being behind Jen, you couldn't see the look on her face. Her and Dan never got on well at all. Dan never made a show of hiding his hatred for his baby sister. Jen tried to reach out to him and mend the broken relationship through the years. Her attempts never did much, often only deepening his resentment for her. You didn't know where their relationship stood now but from how Dan acted earlier in the night, it wasn't very different. 

Daniel Baker was _definitely_ dead. 

Those blood thirsty fucks had no intention of sparing any of you. Just because you didn't see his death, didn't mean that he'd magically live like in the movies. Hatchet boy probably eviscerated or decapitated him. You didn't want to think about it. You'd seen enough gore for the night, probably for your whole life. 

You were thankful to Dan, he saved your ass. You had no idea why. You probably never would. Maybe he changed deep down or maybe he and Jen had scarily good timing. Weird sibling connection maybe?

"Jen." You called out, wind whipping past you, the ringing in your ears beginning to subside, leaving your head pounding dully. You may be running for your lives but you wanted to talk. About how she even got outside. About why she did what she did, knowing it was like walking into a pit of pissed off vipers. About Dan and if she was okay. She probably wasn't but it's the thought of asking that counts.

"What." She sounded mildly annoyed, odd. Having a grip on your emotions in this situation was proving to be an impossible task. You kind of got it; sounding mildly annoyed while running for your life, you brother who tormented you for years just being, presumably, horribly murdered. 

"How did you get outside?" You asked the first question on your long list.

" _G_ et your little asses back here!" A voice laughed, "I'm not done with you yet, _(Y/n)_." You didn't dare look back. 

"Nuh-no way! I called dibs on her earlier!" Another joined in, sounding giddy. 

You slammed your sneakers on the unpaved path as hard as you could. Propelling yourself, almost right next to Jen. Your breaths were ragged, you hadn't been running long but your lungs already were burning. You were overheating but freezing at the same time. Your muscles in overdrive but there was an ice cold fear that gripped your skin tightly. 

**_B A N G !_**

A bullet lodged itself into the back of your right thigh, and you only knew because of the searing heat and the feeling of blood pulsating down your leg. You didn't even feel the pain, the adrenaline wouldn't allow it. Thank God the gun toting fuck who shot you was far enough away that it didn't blow a gaping hole in your body like you'd seen so many other times before. You only felt your leg give out from under you with a gasp.

You didn't hit the gravel below. Jen grabbed you from under the shoulder and yanked you up before you could fall. You stumbled together a few steps before you continued running. Your right leg didn't move as fast, you were slowing down. You were going to get caught by the men. You were going to die. 

"Nice shot! You fucking missed her knee!" A voice lectured.

**"I was just shot in the shoulder. Forgive me for not having perfect aim."** The modified voice of the one who definitely just shot you retorted with annoyance.

You could hear their thunderous footfalls as they chased after you. You don't know how they could be chasing you. The last time you saw them, they were all wounded. Hatchet boy looked like he'd never walk again. Low and behold, the sound grew louder by the second, they were getting closer.

"I have an idea!" Jen exclaimed, she was dragging you along. You tried to keep up with her pace but your right leg refused to work properly.

"Just do it!" You cried, there wasn't time to talk over her idea.

Jen began to drag you towards the edge of the path, you had no idea what she was doing. You both stumbled as she lost her footing as a hard force hit her in the back. You didn't see what pushed her forward. She just let out a surprised shriek and you heard a dull, wet ' _thunk_.'

You broke through a line of thick shrubbery. The second you both burst from the foliage, the dirt beneath you was at a steep incline. You didn't have time to scream in alarm as, together, you hit the forest floor. The impact sent a rattle through your bones, your body comically bounced from the ground as you were flung through the air by gravity and your inertia. You hit the ground again, feeling pebbles dig into your skin, somehow feeling sharper than the porcelain in your hand. You began to roll, fast. You couldn't make out what little of the ground you could see in the darkness from the sky. Everything spiraled together in a blurry haze. You felt the ground beneath you disappear and you plummeted downwards.

You flew through the air only a few seconds before you landed on your abused right leg. There was a wet ripping and a loud ' _pop'._ You didn't see or feel what happened, as the steep hill and gravity worked in a horrible unison to further ruin your night. Continuing your horrible trip down the hill; you rolled, hopeless flailing about. The branches and bushes you passed scraping your skin. You miraculously didn't slam into any of the trees.

You didn't know how long you had tumbled down the steep hill. You had no idea it was there when you first came to the cabin hours before, it was perfectly hidden by the plants that framed the path. You felt a wave of relief wash over you as you rolled to a stop. You lay splayed out on the forest floor on your back. Adrenaline kept pain from you but you doubted it would last much longer. For all you knew, half your bones could be broken. That fall was probably going to hurt in the morning. Probably.

The sky above was spinning, the thin treetops swaying didn't help your blurry vision. "(Y/n)?" Jen's voice crocked. You pushed yourself up with your forearms. You were going to look for her but before you could your eyes fell upon your right leg.

From a bit below your kneecap, the bone of your lower leg poked out. The darkness hid most of the damage but the moonlight showed your white bone gleaming with blood. You looked away, heaving, a small stream of bile lazily ejected from your mouth. 

You couldn't feel it. It didn't matter now. Jen mattered. "Jen?" You rasped out desperately, head snapping around, you did your best to avoid the sight of your leg. 

"Over here." A soft voice called to you. She sounded like she was behind you. She also sounded like shit.

You turned onto the side of your left leg. You turned your head towards her slumped form. You could only make out the basic shape of her in the moonlight. Using your hopefully uninjured leg, you pushed yourself forwards; digging your forearms into the dirt to further yourself along.

"Jen?" You called out again, you didn't fully trust your vision.

"Yeah?" Her voice had a raspy wetness to it, like a thick block of mucus was stuck in her throat, like she had just woken up after a long nap.

You grunted, pushing yourself a few more inches forwards. You were only a foot away but God, you were so fucking tired. 

"Hey." There was a smile in her voice.

She sat on the thick trunk of a tree you could hardly see. She was slumped forward, her hands supporting her upper body. Her legs were splayed in front of her at angles that weren't healthy.

"Hey." You echoed with an amused huff. You didn't let the conversation lull like you had hours before, "What the fuck was that?" Before she could open her mouth, you continued,"All of it, I mean."

"Oh," She let out a dry chuckle, "When I got here I wanted to take some pictures of the forest for my Gram-gram. She loves scenic photos like that," Velma had always liked you, once she even called you a second granddaughter,"I fell into a bush. Somehow, it caught me. It took me for-fucking-ever to get back up the hill. I hardly fell a few feet but there were no good footholds. It didn't help that when I called for help Henry laughed at me for the longest time." She looked to your filthy form, you both had a moment of silence for the man, a melancholic smile plastered on her lips.

"I see." You slowly nodded, trying to add some normalcy to the conversation. She still didn't talk about the door. You wondered hazily why she didn't get up and help you. You should still be moving. The men were probably on a, much safer, trail to your location. You didn't feel very safe but she just sat idly.

"I got out through the window," She continued, "Broke it with the lamp." there was pride in her tone. "Got onto the walkway, bag-head wasn't there. I went down the stairs," She paused, letting out an exasperated exhale, "I was going to run but when I heard you and Dan." She stopped shakily hissing, "I didn't want you to die. I didn't even think about it, my legs just moved on their own."

You grunted a sound of understanding. The sharp pebbles and thorns on the forest floor dug into the fabric of your flannel as you pushed yourself closer to her. "And?"

"It'd be a waste to leave you behind after I let you out of that hell hole," She stated simply,"But also." She let out a series of hiccups, you couldn't see it but she was crying. "I know I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I got anyone else killed."

You jumped to her defense against her own words,"Isaac wasn't just your fault!"

"I know it's not completely, but you and I," She whimpered, "I held that rock too. I'm responsible, we all are." She stopped for a second only to begin again bitterly,"I just didn't want to live with the guilt of not doing anything! When he took you out of the room and you looked at me, I felt my fucking heart break." She emptily laughed,"I stopped loving you years ago but God," She shook her head,"I think there's a part of me that always will."

"But a part of you is always going to hate me too, huh?" You croaked, you felt the same. She changed your life. She taught you so much. You shared so many laughs. Then, she held her hands over yours and you crushed a boys skull in. The night after your first kiss.

"Right on the money." She agreed, "I just." She trailed off. She sounded terrible; shallow wet breaths escaped her lips, a bloody cough following after. You could see the shine of the blood on her mouth, still smiling softly.

"Life's full of mysteries. You don't need an in-depth answer for every little question." You laughed hypocritically, right after you'd begged her for answers. 

"(Y/n)?" There was no dramatic pause.

"Yeah?" You squinted your eyes, trying to see her face, only seeing the blood and the faint shine of her eyes as she looked up to the night sky.

"I think I'm dying." The bomb was dropped with a casual tone, like she was asking about the weather.

"No, you're not!" You were determined to make it out with her. You'd been through so much bullshit tonight, her death wasn't another loss you were willing to take.

"There is a hatchet buried in my back." She gurgled out, followed by a cough that sprayed spit and blood on your face. You weren't grossed out in the slightest, you'd been through worse tonight. You had at least three other people's blood on your face. "I'm going to die."

"Plenty of people have lived through crazy shit like this!" You recalled all the stories you'd seen on your phone. You remembered your phone, if it wasn't broken from the fall you could maybe get a signal. You gasped at the realization.

As you shifted, reaching a hand down to your shirt pocket, Jen spoke, "I don't think I'm going to make it honestly." Your phone was a shattered heap of glass and metal in your hand. Typical. You let it drop to the forest floor. "I'm not tying to be nihilistic. I just feel so cold and tired. I can't breathe, I can't feel my legs. I know what's happening."

Hot tears spilled from your eyes at her Revelation,"But what about-"

"I've never been that lucky. I'm going to die here," she made an attempt to gesture that just ended up with her arms shaking as they were beginning to give out,"I want you to do something for me."

You didn't hesitate, "Anything." You remembered the short conversation Michael and, as Jen called him, bag head, had before his head was stomped in.

"Take the hatchet from my back and get out of here." She croaked, her voice was growing weak and wary.

"You'll bleed out!" You exclaimed, the adrenaline was beginning to wear off and your entire body began to slowly ache.

"I already am." She bitterly chuckled, you think she was looking at you now, "Just take it. But first I got something to tell you." She leaned forward, head lulling, she wasn't looking at you anymore; if she was in the first place.

"Okay." The aches began to throb.

"I love you." She whispered, sounding like an eight year old girl telling you a secret.

"No, you don't." You didn't want to be mean to the girl while she was dying but you didn't want her last words to you be a complete lie.

"Hah. Yeah, I just feel like I should say in in the moment. I'm dying if you hadn't noticed." Her words oozed and melted into each other. There was a playful tone somewhere in her gurgling words.

"I loved you the way you were, I always liked the genuine Jen. You can be honest with me." You felt her hand on yours. You opened your fingers, intertwining your hand with hers.

"Sure, sure." She breathed out quietly, eyes fixed back at the sky. She didn't draw another. Her hand was still warm in yours. But you knew it was over.


	7. 6 - Mad Grit

A quivering breath escaped your lungs as you felt fat, hot tears pour from your eyes. It was starting to hurt your eyes; your head pounded from the fading adrenaline rush and the choking painful sobs were definitely not helping. Your body dully throbbed, your nerves were slowly awakening to bring you a world of hurt. 

There was no time to mourn Jen. You had to haul your broken ass out of dodge. First though, you were going to respect her final wishes, the thought made your stomach churn dangerously. You didn't want to puke up any more bile, the ramen was long out of your system, splattered somewhere near poor Alexis. 

Your left leg pushed your body forward, your busted hands clawing at the dirt to bring you closer to Jen's still warm corpse. Getting dirt, and God knows what else, into your shredded palm wasn't ideal; but you needed to move. You could worry about infection later. You had to get away from those fuckers first. 

Your hand that wasn't filled with shards of glass and rock gingerly grabbed her by the shoulder. The lack of a reaction from the woman who seconds ago was talking to you, burst a wheezing sob from your lungs. You guided her torso downwards, folding her practically in half, like a doll. The sound of her clothes shuffling was mixed with the sickening squelching sound of blood as her injuries tore and shifted.

There was no pride in having to man-handle your ex-best-friend, ex-almost-girlfriend's body that you had a mixed emotional attachment to. You just had to take solace in the fact that this was her idea. A small part of you whispered that you would have done it anyway, you ignored that part of you; you already felt enough like a shitty person.

Removing your hand from her shoulder, you placed it on the ground to push your torso up from the ground. With a grunt of effort and a bit of pain, you hauled yourself onto all fours, except for your right leg who wasn't participating. Wobbling, you aimlessly reached a hand down her back. 

It wasn't long before you felt luke-warm, sticky liquid, grace your fingertips. You braced yourself to feel something you'd rather not. You fingers continued down her back only a few inches before they passed ripped fabric. Directly after the torn fabric, you felt the bloody skin of her back and how it caved in. A finger accidentally slipped into the, you assumed deep, gash. You gasped, pulling your finger out the wound like it had burned you.

"Fuck! I'm sorry!" You instinctively murmured out an apology to Jen's not listening corpse. 

The wet yet firm feel of her exposed muscle on your fingers stuck in your mind as you brought your hand up, searching for the hatchet. You had a feeling you weren't going to eat meat after this. 

The back of your hand gently bumped into it's cool metal handle. The metal let out a soft scraping sound as your bloodied nails traced around its form, looking to get a good grip. It felt crusty. You couldn't tell it was rust or Henry's blood. 

Cringing, trying to steel yourself, you dug your fingers into the dirt while your other hand gripped the hatchet as hard as you could. You jerked your hand up. The awkward angle and position you were in didn't help much as the hatchet hardly moved. For the plan being Jens idea, she wasn't helping much. With a determined grunt through gritted teeth, you pulled again. Jen's body jerked forward, the top of her head brushed against your left thigh. 

You inwardly gagged, no disrespect to the dead but it was pretty nasty. You tugged again, there was a supple sucking sound, you hoped that meant the hatchet was almost freed from her flesh.

"Come on!" You egged yourself on, you had to be your own cheerleader. 

With extra effort provided by the impending sense of doom that clutched your chest; the hatchet burst from Jen's back with a sticky wet, ' _Shleerp'._ You nearly had to catch yourself as it came free. You looked down at the weapon, Jen's blood oozed from its blade and into the wound you gladly couldn't see. 

You spun your head about, pushing thoughts of sorrow, disgust, and Jen away. Survival is all that mattered now. You looked around the inky darkness around you, hoping to make out a silhouette of the men or a land marker of some kind. Your eyes fell upon the steep incline you'd fallen down. The men were that way, so you'd just have to go the other.

You swung your good leg to the side. You slammed the hatchet into the dry dirt in your desired direction. You pulled yourself forward, the hatchet digging into the ground, letting you to more easily slide your body along, horizontally climbing along the ground. It gave you extra stability and having something to pull yourself along with made things much easier. 

You were on your hands and knees, wrists aching, left knee scraped, right leg presumably fucked, one palm torn to shreds. The looming pain was more of a heat all around your whole body. You grunted, slamming the hatchet again into the dirt, allowing it to aid you forward. Your mouth was dry, you felt lightheaded, you had probably lost a lot of blood. You probably smelled like shit; blood, dirt, sweat, vomit, but you couldn't tell because had long gone nose-blind to it. Your ribs were probably cracked, and God damn, were you traumatized. 

It would be the understatement of the millennium to say: you felt like shit.

Scientifically, light travels much faster then sound but you heard something before you saw it. 

You had no idea what the the raving voice was saying but it was loud. It was loud and growing louder. It was close, really close. A little dose of what little adrenaline your broken body could provide, had you scrambling on the forest floor towards the foreign sound like a child hearing an ice cream truck.

Three of your limbs flailed about, throwing your body ahead with a renewed determination. Your right leg limply dangled uselessly like a weight, slowing you down. 

It was louder now.

You could hear the screaming voice, radio static cutting it in and out, and the rumble of a weak engine. 

" _Wha-.. I do..-ord? Destro-...child--.. rrupt them.. al-! --is.. their pl-- people! --ey are.-emons!"_ The raving voice rasped on the radio. You didn't take the time to piece the message together. It was probably some lunatic radio show host who though they knew everything anyway.

You threw yourself through a thick bunch of shrubber. Emerging from the other side, you were on the unpaved, pothole ridden road you'd traveled through hours before. 

The approaching headlights were blinding and illuminated your crawling form. 

You scrambled forward, a vocal-cord tearing scream bursting from your lungs. You threw yourself into the middle of the road, not caring about all the sharp debris digging into your flesh. You wove your free hand wildly, still screaming incoherent calls for help. 

Probably surprised by the sudden appearance of a dirt covered, crawling, screeching, woman, the car skidded to a stop. Its headlights now in your face, your once waving hand shielded your eyes as you hissed.

Two hollow _'thunk'_ s entered your ears as the radio was turned off and car doors were opened.

_"HELP!"_ Tears of pure fucking bliss spilled down your cheeks, there was no need to yell but you didn't know if you could talk normally at this point, you could only communicate through gasping sobs. 

"Oh my God! Are you okay?!" A southern sounding woman's voice called to you. 

" _NO! PLEASE JUST HELP!"_ You screamed at her round form that towered above your broken body.

"Samuel! Help me get her in the back!" The woman ordered a scrawny figure that cautiously approached your bloody, hatchet holding, self.

"Ma, I can ride in the back it's okay." A boyish voice squeaked as the woman bent down, grabbing you by your armpits and lifting you like you were a sack of potatoes, a screaming crying sack of potatoes. 

"Gettin' her in the front would take took long, boy!" The woman scolded Samuel, who reluctantly looked at you as you let yourself be held like a rag doll. 

"If that's what ya think is best, Ma." He scampered towards the back of their filthy pickup truck. There was a dull ' _thunk_ ' as he pulled down the shallow door to the bed of the pickup. 

"You'll be okay, hun. We'll get ya outta here." She comforted you in the softest tone she could muster. You were glad she wasn't asking anymore stupid questions. 

"Thank you." You were surprised you didn't scream the words out, instead they came out as a weak whimper. "Thank you, thank you." The words poured from your mouth, you'd never been so thankful to see a pair of rednecks in your entire life.

"It'll be alright." She echoed her earlier sentiment. 

Not knowing what to say when a busted up and screaming twenty-something waves your car down for help, is incredibly understandable.

You were glad she wasn't more like Dan.

**\----**

_"What the fuck do you mean, 'Don't you fucking dare'?!" Alexis screeched out at her boyfriend, who stomped towards her and the broken boy's body._

_"Did I fucking stutter or something? Are you deaf?" Dan snarled out nastily._

_You and Jen stood a few feet away. Hands on your mouth, covering your hanging jaw. You were frozen on the spot, shaking and crying._

_"He needs help!" Alexis argued, standing up from the boys side. "Are you fucking crazy?" She took a step forward, blocking Dan's approach. Despite standing at her full height, her boyfriend towered over her._

_**"Move."**_

**\----**

The woman laid you on your back in the bed of her pickup. Your feet facing the road that you were glad that you'd soon be leaving far, far behind you. 

"You good, hun?" She asked as Samuel heaved, pushing the little gate of the back of the pickup shut. 

"As good as I can be." You wheezed out with a faltering smile. The dull thumping heat of pain intensifying from being moved. You were terrible as you possibly could be but you were alive, which was significantly better than the rest of your party.

Samuel already had began to make his way back to the passenger seat. You didn't see his face but you bet that it was pale with terror. You were a bloody stranger with a bone sticking out of your leg and a hatchet in your hand. Just a bit unnerving.

"Sammy's gonna call nine-one-one and we're gonna get you some help, okay?" She patted the side of the pickup, you just nodded and let yourself lay blissfully on the cool plastic floor.

She was about to disappear from your view into the drivers seat. She paused a moment, which confused you, now wasn't the time to look wistfully at the dark forest. You heard her gasp as she scrambled to her door, the pickup rocked as she threw her heavy body into the drivers seat. 

It was probably nothing but the anxiety that still coursed through your bones made you prop yourself up on your bruised forearms and peel the top of your torso up to get a look above the shallow door of the truck bed.

Standing tall in the tail lights of the pickup was bag head. Rifle in his gloved hands.

You screamed," _DRIVE! DRIVE!"_ Kicking your left leg to push yourself away from the man, your back being met with the cool metal of the truck.

He was only a few feet away. You couldn't pull your eyes away to see if his companions were approaching. 

Not bothering to buckle up or shut her drivers side door, the woman slammed her foot on the gas. The car lurched forward, the sudden inertia sent your body towards the closed off end of the pickup. One hand slapped to the side of the truck bed, trying to weakly hold yourself in place. The other readjusting your grip on the hatchet subconsciously. 

**_B A N G !_**

The anxiety inducing shot pierced your ears followed by a loud _'hiss'_ and _'pop'._ The car swerved, bumping your partially laying body a few inches into the air. Your back slammed into the plastic floor with a grunt. The car swung about, your grip on the side of the truck somewhat steadying you. Your lower body was flung around like a rag doll while the hatchet wielding arm, weakly propped your upper body up.

Despite the cars shot tire, it was starting to steady its wild swerving. The truck must be as shitty as your now busted car because it didn't accelerate very fast. It felt like you were going at a snails pace but it was probably something along the lines of ten miles an hour. Slow for a car but fast for a person.

Fast for the average person. Completely normal for a pissed off, adrenaline filled, psychopath.

Bag head had swung his rifle onto his back while he sprinted towards the pickup. His usually quiet footfalls were now loud and uncalculated. He was panting beneath his mask, the voice changer altering it into a repetitive demonic heaving. A charging wild beast coming right at you.

"FASTER!" You screamed at the woman in the drivers seat, as the car finally completely steadied as much as it could with a blown out tire. You knew damn well that her foot was to the floor, screaming the command just made you feel like maybe it'd make the car go faster. 

The slow acceleration speed continued to disappoint as the mask wearing freak was bathed in the red taillights. His yellow hoodie was stained red, torn and dirty from the struggles he'd encountered from the night. But he was not slowing down. 

_"HAUL YOUR FUCKING ASS HOODIE!"_ A commanding voice echoed through your surroundings. " _WE'RE GONNA STOMP YOUR ASS INTO THE FUCKING GROUND YOU LITTLE BITCH!"_ It was as angry as it was horrifyingly taunting.

It didn't matter that the pickup had finally gained a smidgen of speed or that you learned this masked killers name; Hoodie's gloved hand slapped and curled around the top of the hatch. You let out a startled gasp but you didn't let your shock stop you from acting. You weren't that feeble teenage girl anymore.

**\----**

_"What do you think happens if we call nine-one-one, huh?" Dan tilted his head in mock curiosity at the girl before him._

_Before Alexis could answer, Henry barked, "We save his life, dumb ass!" He stood near the crumpled hood of the mini-van. A hand on the sobbing Michael's shoulder. Through the entire sequence, he'd done nothing but sob hysterically._

_You were doing something very similar but you were quieter about it. Not that crying the softest was a competition._

_"Sure, but!" Dan held up a finger, looking past Alexis' defensive stance to the still conscious boy on the ground._

_" **We all get fucked."**_

**\----**

Lips curled into a snarl, you let out a guttural scream that tore at your vocal cords. You slammed your left foot into the man's fingers. 

**"Nice try."** The robotic voice sent a shiver down your spine, the hand that you'd stomped on slipped away from your view. His other hand had already gripped the door. You could see the top of one of his knees as he began to haul himself onto the pickup.

You kept on screeching, the hand that held onto the side of the car trying to haul your body up even more for some leverage. You threw your foot at the new hand that dared touch your well earned escape.

He'd braced himself for the hit and didn't remove his aching digits from the back of the pickup. He began to further pull himself onto the car, his bloody torso slinking forward as he slapped his once removed hand back onto the car with a threatening thud. 

He slammed a steel-toed boot down onto the plastic floor by your own bloodied shoes.

You couldn't escape from these crazy, backwoods, psychopathic, yeehaws. You wouldn't let the Baker siblings sacrifices be in vain. If you were going to die, you were going to tear them a new one first. 

Screaming out a, "FUCK, FUCK, HELP!" To the frantically driving woman in the drivers seat, you pulled your propped up body back, and made an attempt at the mans crotch, while his other leg was swung into the pickup bed. 

He wobbled as the truck drove on but was still towering over you in the moving truck, the frown of his mask seeming to glare down at you. The woman in the drivers seat probably had no fucking idea what to do. She was probably just hoping he'd fall off the slowly accelerating vehicle; you doubted her panicked mind had thought to further swerve the vehicle to maybe throw his towering self from the truck bed. 

He snatched your foot as soon as it came within arms reach. You attempted to jerk it out of his iron grasp but your aching leg hardly budged. 

**"You,"** He spoke evenly as threw your leg down with an unexpected force, **"are not getting,"** He threw his body on top of yours, **"away."** His weight crushed you as he sat on your waist, a leg on either side of your body, you could feel his breath through the thin fabric of his mask, heaving and angry.

" _You can kiss my-"_ You screamed out without thinking, your hand dropping from the side of the truck and swinging towards his masked face, " _Fat fucking ass!"_

He caught your fist in his palm. 

_"Uh-oh."_ You wheezed under his weight.

**"Uh-oh is right."** He chuckled softly at your surprise. Then he smashed your hand into the floor beside your head. 

You felt a sudden rush of pain as you felt the thin bones in your hand snap. You wanted to be cool about, really, you did. It was just another broken bone at the end of the day! Thing is, there wasn't enough adrenaline in your system to completely block out the vomit-inducing feeling of individual bones snapping and fracturing inside your hand. That along with the building agony all over your body was a concoction for a soul piercing scream from your aching lungs. 

In you panicked agony, you swung the hatchet gripped in your other palm, towards his neck. 

And of course nothing could go your way. He caught your wrist before you even realized you'd begun to swing the hatchet. 

His baggy frown slowly turned towards the weapon you clutched in your hand, **"My associate will be wanting this back. Thank you for retrieving it for him."** Without any fanfare, he slammed your wrist back into the floor, inches away from your head. Your fingers involuntarily dropped the hatchet and it lay limp in your palm.

He had you completely pinned down and helpless.

Your fingers twitched with desperation, trying to grasp the hatchet once more but his grip only tightened. The hand began to feel fuzzy with the lack of blood flow. Not like grabbing it would be of any help, with your wrist pinned you wouldn't be able to swing it at all. 

You had no idea why he didn't bother to snatch it from you. Maybe he wanted you to have hope while you struggled, the rat bastard. 

Your entire body pulsated with an intense heat, everything hurt. The thing that hurt the worst was the grown man sitting on your waist, not having the courtesy to uphold his own weight, he was crushing you. Having someone on you lap was cool and fun but not when it was a six foot something murderer trying to actively murder you. 

There was an instant relief when he released your severely broken hand a gasp escaping your worn lungs. You couldn't move your puffy aching joints at all. It was a hollow victory.

You could move your arm though! You threw up your hand, it was completely limp. That didn't stop you from trying to hit his chest with it like a fleshy whip. His shoulders bouncing ever so slightly as he laughed at your attempts. 

**\----**

_"What do you mean we 'get fucked?'" Alexis bellowed out while she made air quotes._

_Dan laughed, shaking his head, "Look at us!" He began with an 'are-you-stupid' tone, "We," He said accusingly like you had gripped the steering wheel, "Hit him."_

_"I fucking know, Dan! That's why we call for help!" She retorted snottily._

_"That's illegal." He continued._

_"No fucking shit idiot!" Henry gestured to the boy, "Not getting him help is even more illegal!"_

_**"We'd only get in trouble if someone found out."**_

**\----**

The woman who drove the car still did nothing but drive straight ahead. No swerving to attempt to get him off at all. You wondered if that would do anything now as he was sat comfortably on your body. If only the back door was open.

The door.

You had one usable leg! It felt like absolute ass but it could move. You were lucky to have the man where he was, on your waist instead of your legs. He seemed like he had the most brain cells out of the entire group. It was odd he wouldn't take the chance to pin your legs. You supposed it was like the same reason he didn't immediately confiscate the hatchet from your open palm. He was cocky. 

You grit your teeth at the sight of him lazily pulling his rifle from his back one handed. He was cocky, but not stupid enough to release your other hand.

He was going as slow and nonchalant as he could. The fucker probably wanted you to whimper and beg beneath him. That made you angry. So fucking angry.

You bore your teeth at him, growling as you reared back your leg and smashed it into the door. It shuttered, the impact sending a cringe worthy rattle through your aching muscles. He didn't turn to look at the sound, either he was genuinely that cocky or he just didn't care. He had one goal in mind, and that was to blow your skull to bits in the back of this stranger's car.

You slammed your leg into the door again and again. Watching with wide eyes as the rifle began to round his shoulder. Your arm pounding your limp and screaming hand into his chest as you let out a vocal cord tearing scream. You'd be going for his face if you could reach. The hatchet's handle felt heavy in your semi-working hand, your fingers continued to twitch, if you wanted any hope of moving them you'd need to get his hand off your wrist.

The pickup was a hunk of shitty metal. If it wasn't, you probably wouldn't be under Hoodie's fat ass. Being a rickety, old, car did mean that it was rusted and more prone to break. Break it did, when for what felt like the hundredth time, you slammed your foot into the pickup's hatch.

**CLUNK**

You felt the door give way from the force, and your foot no longer was against the rusted metal but instead the open air. When you'd realized earlier that the door was there, you didn't really have a plan in mind, you just moved. In the time you stared and screamed at this hooded freak, a spite fueled plot entered your fried brain. 

**\----**

_"Daniel, you couldn't possibly-!" Jen gasped out, removing herself from your quivering form as she realized what he possibly meant. She was always quick to piece things together before everyone else. She positioned herself next to Alexis, crossing her arms firmly across her chest._

_"No one has to know but us," The foul suggestion began to pour from Dan's mouth,"If we just.." The bloodied boy on the ground looked up at the older teen, he looked mortified. "Kill him."_

_"No! What the fuck do you think you're saying!?" Alexis yelled, looking flabbergasted at Dan who regarded her much smaller form with an air of annoyance._

_"Are you fucking crazy, dude?" Henry chimed in. He may be blitzed out of his mind but he still had enough common sense to know that murder is wrong._

_**"Just think about the position we're all in for a second."**_

**\----**

The plan didn't require you to open your big mouth, but you repeated the habit of talking at the worst of times. 

"You must be really confident," You wheezed out, you weren't feeling very confident, "Huh?" You flashed him an uneven toothy grin that flattened when he tilted his head.

He was ignoring you, playing hard to get. You could work with that.

"Leaving me with such an advantage?" You forced the bitter joke past your teeth. Your 'advantages' were an open door dropping to the quickly passing road below and a hatchet in your possibly broken hand.

You had an idea that he wanted you to have hope when you died. Probably not as satisfying if you completely gave up or maybe he liked a bit of danger. You wouldn't take the filthy man as a masochist but hey, you weren't going to judge. Actually, you are totally are judging him. Fuck bag head, gun freak, Hoodie, whatever.

In one hand, he held the rifle across his chest. It wasn't aimed at you yet but you didn't doubt it would be any second now. 

The time to act was now. 

You drew your lips as far back as you could. With a scratchy battle cry, you snapped your head to hand pinning your wrist down. Your jaw stretched open before you clamped as much of his exposed wrist into your mouth. 

The human bite is severely understated and underrated. It can generate roughly a-hundred pounds or more of pressure per square inch, it can rip and tear through flesh easier then most people believe. That is quite strong! However, when aided with the hysterical strength of being in a life or death situation, humans can go far beyond the limits scientists say are possible for the average person. 

So, when you bit into the man's sweaty skin, your jaw clamping down with as much force as your jaw could muster under the extreme stress, you broke his skin faster then you thought. The revolting salty taste of his skin made you want to stop but the pure rage, spite, and keen sense for survival made you push past your disgust.

Your teeth sinking into another humans flesh was an alien feeling, it was nothing like biting into a tough piece of meat like you'd thought it be.

You twisted your head, further opening his flesh. His blood was hot on your tongue. Through the racing thoughts of survival, a small part of you hoped he didn't have any S.T.D's. 

His exposed flesh tore from your mouth as her jerked his hand away in an involuntary act of self preservation. He let out an annoyed growl as his hand flew back.

_"Haven't you seen the movies?"_ You recalled your last words to Henry, snarling with your blood soaked teeth. Your now freed wrist let your fingers fly around the hatchets handle, gripping it tightly. 

He didn't respond, his bitten arm flying to the gun to steady it so he could blow your fucking brains out for daring to bite him.

_"I AM THE!"_ Your broken hand slammed itself onto the floor below you, exploding in pain, " _FUCKING!"_ You ignored the pain, pushing yourself up with a speed you didn't know you had.

As you came up, hatchet swinging through the air, Hoodie aimed the barrel of his gun at your head. He pulled the trigger only to hear a hollow, ' _click'._

He was out of ammo.

_"FINAL GIRL!"_

You slammed the hatchet into the mans shoulder, screaming, nose crinkling, jaw stretched open, eyes full of rage. It cut through his thick hoodie like it was butter and buried itself into his shoulder; severing muscle and cracking bone.

_**"GAAAH! FUCK!"**_ The scream he let out was short but it filled you with pride. A hand shot towards the hatchet while the other aimlessly swung at you.

You took the fist to the face like a champ. It snapped your head to the side but you didn't fall, no, you wouldn't be pushed around by meat-headed men anymore. You grunted as your head swung, your now empty hand clenched into a fist and shooting towards his masked face. Your gaze had been momentarily knocked to the side but you had a good idea where his eyes should be under the baggy mask.

Your hand pushed into the fabric, you felt the curves of his face beneath the mask. You didn't pay any attention to the shape of his face, you only slightly adjusted your hand so your filthy fingers were pushing the moist blood soaked cloth into his fucking corneas. 

_**"BITCH!"**_ The robotic voices degrading insult felt like the sweetest compliment you had ever received. It meant you hurt him. Good.

He leaned back, his other hand flying to the red dots on his mask. There was nothing to stop you from getting in a good nut shot now.

Rearing your fist back, screaming," _YOU SHOULD HAVE KILLED ME WHEN YOU HAD THE CHANCE, FUCK-O!"_ You smashed your fist into his crotch.

Who knew that crushing a killers balls with your tiny fists-o-fury could feel so good?

Hoodie let out a guttural cry that sounded more like a humpback whales mating call than a scream. Pushing himself instinctively away from your fist. The hand that was once on his face was now reaching to protect _something_ probably much smaller then his eyes. 

This was it.

" _FUCK OFF!"_ You slid your aching leg out from under his, now awkwardly crouching form. He'd stumbled back and was practically on the open door the truck bed, he just needed a little push. In the form of a foot to the face.

He was completely stunned, a hatchet in his shoulder, eyes burning, his little guys crying. You kicked the man while he was down, literally. 

Your dirty sneaker smashed into his baggy false face. That, and everything else you'd just done, did it. 

It played out in anxiety inducing slow motion. His head snapping back, arms flailing to find something to grab as he lost his balance and fell back towards the road.

He wasn't completely incompetent as he'd just made himself out to be; as one of his hands snatched the very tip of the hatch as he fell. Angry grunts that sounded more like the dial up tone because of his stupid modulator escaped him as he was dragged along by the, now speeding, truck. 

The truck hit a deep pothole. 

The blown out back tire was the one that momentarily fell into it. The severe bump threw you into the air, gravity quickly slamming your body back into the truck bed. You were dazed a moment before your survival instincts kicked in. You forced yourself up.

The back door to the pickup lightly bounced from the kick of sudden movement and Hoodie's body was rag dolling down the road.

An explosive laugh ripped through your aching lungs as he spun and tumbled down the road. He quickly disappeared from your view, rolling into the inky darkness.

You couldn't stop yourself from laughing, further pulling yourself into a sitting position with your least broken hand. Everything hurt but seeing the murderous bastard so helplessly thrown from the vehicle, in the moment, was the funniest thing you'd ever seen. Hot tears of sorrow, relief, joy, pain, freely cascaded down your crusty, bloody cheeks. 

They couldn't get you now unless they had a car. You didn't want to think about the outcome if they did. One of them literally chased the car though, you don't just chase down cars if you have a car to chase said car down. You were safe. Probably.

Ripping laughter beginning to subside, you allowed yourself to take big heaving breaths, as big of breaths as possible when you knew your ribs were smashed. You scooted your butt back away from the open door. You didn't want to join the man in the activity of rolling down an unpaved road at high speeds.

You were so fucking tired. You leaned your sweaty back against the back window of the pickup. A bitter thought cursed the panicked driver for not trying to throw the man off. It didn't matter now though. You were alive.

**\----**

_"Didn't you tell your parents that you were studying with Jessica?" Dan turned to Alexis._

_"Okay, and?" She didn't understand the gotcha._

_"When they find out that you were out with me," He turned his gaze to Henry, "In a car with a kid with a backpack full of weed and God knows what else. They're going to beat your fucking face in." He reminded her cruelly._

_Alexis parents were the special type shitty that would leave their child black and blue over the littlest thing. The last time she had snuck out with Dan, her Dad beat her with a belt when she got home._

_They somehow always manipulated their way out of CPS' sight. You didn't know how the organization could be so sloppy. Probably because they were rich white people. But that was besides the point._

_She just put a hand over her mouth._

_The realization that if the cops were involved, when he had at least half a pound on him, when he'd already had so many encounters with them over his little business, made Henry real quiet. His family wasn't well off enough to bail him out if he couldn't wriggle his was way out of being incarcerated. The cops in Tuscaloosa had always been a little more then willing to let some things slide, but Henry was on his last half-friendly, half-firmly worded warning._

_"I could just hide my stuff!" Henry reasoned. If he had to throw some weed in the woods to be eaten by unsuspecting deer so he didn't have to get Alexis in even more in trouble with her parents and him in deeper shit with the law, then so be it._

_**"There's more at stake here then Alexis getting fucking beaten."**_

_**\----** _

Your body bled, ached, screamed, pulsated, and shook as you look up at the sky. The wind whipping through your (h/c) hair had a smile plastered on your lips. It felt good to be alive but also, literally, horrible. You had a theory that you probably had some pretty nasty internal bleeding going on. You were lightheaded and there was a good chance over forty percent of your bones were fractured or broken.

There was a dull nagging guilt that pulled on your thoughts. Every single person that went into the cabin aside from you and the masked men were dead. You knew that reunions could be awkward and go bad but you'd never suspected it'd turn into a gore fest, fight for your life.

You'd lived the past three years without these people. You intended on genuinely never seeing any of them ever again if this never happened. Some of them you didn't even like back then. But, something about it made you feel horribly sad. 

Henry Martinez was a funny guy, clever when he wanted to be, but he was such an edgy shit in high school. The type to make nine, eleven shitty jokes in one day. You were never close, but during the stressful days looming before a big exam, he'd bring a smile to your face.

Alexis Harrison had belittled you, feeding you backhanded compliments and fake niceties before spreading nasty rumors about you for endless years. You resented her, sure, but you knew that being like that was all she'd ever known. She couldn't trust anyone, so she became a fucking snake. 

Michael White you never got on well with. He didn't talk to anyone other than Henry. The few times he had talked to you, he stared at your developing chest, said something mildly misogynistic, then would rudely dismiss you.

Daniel Baker was an angry guy. Always had been. The day you two met in the fourth grade, he said he hated your shoes and called you stinky. You cried. An angry guy who beat the shit out of you many times. An angry guy who saved your life because you couldn't get some in high school. His parents lack of attention made him bitter. You think he was an okay guy deep down, just okay.

Jennifer Baker was a resilient, smart, beautiful, big fucking lesbian who you fell in love with as a teenager. She had severe scoliosis and always wore a chunky back brace that the kids at school made fun of her for. You were always there to build her back up when they broke her down. Her parents overbearing love weighed heavy on her back. She completed you and you lost a piece of yourself that day with that rock in both of your hands.

You were just some lucky as fuck, college kid. You worked a dead-end job at a dingy diner. Your favorite customer was dubbed 'Crackhead Doug' by the homeless folk in town. He made no sense, ever, and was erratic and smelled terrible. His quirks, eye-bleeding sense of fashion, and humor reminded you of a young Jennifer. He also left you fat tips whenever you served him, so that was a big plus.

You didn't have much to look forward to back at your mostly empty apartment. Your furniture smelled faintly of mothballs and there was a dull green stain in the middle of your tiny living room that the previous resident left. 

You don't know why the universe let you live. A bad joke, like one you would tell in high school? You'd never know. 

What you did know was that you were so fucking happy to be alive. You knew the survivors guilt was going to smack your ass incredibly hard the second your mind wasn't fuzzy with blood loss and pain. For now though, while your body ached and you were filled with a short-lived bliss to be living, you'd look up at the quickly passing stars and be grateful.

**\----**

****_"Hoodie! Get your fat ass up!"_ Masky commanded the man who lay in the middle of the road, standing over him with no sympathy and barely contained rage. A hatchet was lodged in his shoulder and his limbs were splayed at odd angles, but Masky could not care less.

Hoodie let a grumble but didn't move. 

"She guh-got away didn't she?" Toby rolled his shoulder a few times, laughing at the man. 

**"Yeah."** Hoodie gave a curt response, slowly twisting his arm to push himself up.

"This only hah-happened because you duh-didn't respect the dibs." Toby tutted, tapping a sneaker on the uneven pavement. "You nuh-nuh-know I called duh-dibs on her!"

**"He is going to be disappointed."** Hoodie ignored the younger proxies comment. His bones cracking and popping as they reconnected and mended themselves at a supernatural rate.

Toby only let out a huff, shoulders slumping forward.

"We took out the most vital target," Masky finally held out a hand to his coworker, "I think he'll let this one slide."

"I'm still mad I didn't guh-get to kuh-kill her." Toby pouted aimlessly, digging his heels into the ground, swinging his arms at his side while he eyed his hatchet in Hoodie's shoulder with mild interest. It wasn't often that he got hurt so badly.

Pulling Hoodie's filthy form from the ground with a grunt, Masky began, "Don't you worry your stupid little head, Rogers." He pulled a little card from his pants pocket, flipping it in his fingers and showed it to his companions.

The card showed her face, full name, height, eye color but most importantly: her address. It was her drivers licence that she'd left behind.

_"I think it'd be good time to ask to burn through our vacation days, don't you think?"_


	8. 7 - In Plain Sight

_You were aware of your legs burning and your lungs heaving but you didn't feel them. You just knew that if you could feel, they'd feel horrible. You couldn't see your arms swinging back and forth in a desperate attempt to make you move faster. There was just the idea that was how they were moving but no actual visual confirmation._

_There was a horrible, pitch matched, unison of voices from behind you._

**_" G E T B A C K H E R E."_**

_Their voices mixed into a muddied combination in your head. Your traumatized brain mixed their mocking, muffled, voices into a horrible concoction. It'd be preferable to completely forget them but instead they conjoined in a disjointed symphony._

_You just kept on doing what you thought you were doing, running. Thick trees whizzed past your disembodied view, the rustling of the foliage you assumed you were running though didn't mask the thundering footsteps behind you._

_There was no feeling of collision. Suddenly, your view was turned towards what you thought was the sky. The possible sky was blocked out by a black mass._

_If you could feel, you'd feel her long hair bushing against your cheeks as her face hovered inches from yours._

_"I love you." The cutting words were followed by a sputtering hacking cough. A hot liquid splattered onto your face._

_You could actually feel it. You couldn't tell if it was saliva or blood._

_**\----** _

The soft yipping pulled your sleep hazy mind from the dream, as well as the repetitive lapping at your lips and nose. 

You pulled your slick lips into an amused line, huffing. You cracked your crusty eyes open to reveal none other then Goober. A sight that you often woke up to, especially during the nights when the dreams got really bad.

He wasn't a trained therapy dog. Far from it. It took the giant idiot months to understand that peeing on your tiny kitchen floor wasn't acceptable. He wasn't the smartest dog out there, especially not for German Shepard, but he meant well. Even if he drooled way too much, got black and brown fur on everything you owned, and if he saw a car from one of the few windows in the apartment, he'd bark like the world was going to end.

Your landlord's a good guy. Charlie Foster, beer belly, thick graying beard, and had the most eye wrinkles you'd ever seen on a person's face. During your stay at the hospital, he didn't visit, which was fine, you didn't really know him. He did however, let you keep your apartment and not make you pay rent until you were discharged. You could tell when you came home with Goober for the first time; he was iffy on letting you have a dog that could get so big and were known to be loud and incredibly dumb. He let you keep the dog despite his initial reluctance, in his words, "Just don't let the thing pee on the carpets, take care of him, and take care of yourself."

When you moved in, the other residents told you something along the lines of him being a world war two vet. He'd probably seen some shit. You concluded that he'd been in a situation similar to yours, haunted by the ghost of blood that was no longer on your skin. He knew that you needed a little light in your life. So he let you keep your growing puppy, who was incredibly dumb, had a heart of gold, and an iron stomach. Last week he found some crayons from God knows where, fucking ate them, and shit weird for the next two days, completely unphased. 

"I'm up." You croaked, a hand pulling itself from under your thin covers to rub his snout. His barrage of licking stopped and he pulled his smelly mouth from your face only to loudly sniff at your skin. "I get it." You raspily chuckled, beginning to try to prop yourself up, Goober noticing your movement, hopped off the bed, butt wagging with his tail. "I smell." You wiped the thick saliva from your face with your forearm as you sat up in your rock hard mattress. The softer, nicer, mattresses didn't come cheap. 

It felt good, to see both of your legs not wrapped up in thick casts. Your right leg was very obviously fucked up after that night, the healing process was smoother then you'd though it'd be. You'd always have a slight limp in your right leg. It made you look a little awkward when you first began to walk without the aid of crutches, which was fairly recently. A week ago you think. The limp was obvious if someone was looking at your gait. You weren't ashamed of it but you did look to correct it by walking more stiffly. For two whole days, you walked with locked knees and put your heel down first when you walked. You gave up on trying to correct the limp as it you looked like a penguin and it took a toll on your weak legs.

You didn't get much exercise in while in the hospital, looking like a mummy with all the casts you'd been smothered in. Physical therapy was an option but you knew that your parents pockets weren't bottomless. They'd been so kind to offer aid in paying your enormous hospital bills. Not all of it, but a fat enough chunk that you didn't feel as much pressure. 

Your parents were very active in helping you. Not emotionally. Monetarily. There were visits of course, filled with worried crying and pity. You could talk to them obviously, but you'd rather pour out all the real bad shit to your therapist. You gave them the fright of their lives when they got the call from the hospital that a ridiculous amount of your bones were broken and there was a bullet in your leg. 

They bought Goober for you as a surprise. One day they came into the room where you sat, a leg propped up on a sling that hung from the ceiling and hooked up to machines you couldn't name. They couldn't take the little guy out of the cage, they were already on thin ice bringing a dog into the hospital. They weren't the richest people out there, they couldn't afford a specially trained therapy dog. They could afford a mutt that resembled a German Shepard though! 

You'd made it very clear to them. You weren't moving back home. They stayed in Tuscaloosa and you never wanted to visit that wretched place ever again. If they wanted to see you after your stay at the hospital was up, they'd have to take the nearly seven hour drive from Tuscaloosa to Corydon, Indiana. Their parental instincts kicked in and they made the decision for you that you should get a dog. They thought that a 'tough' dog to protect you and bring a smile to your, at the time, fucked up face, would be a good thing. They didn't even call Charlie first to check if it was okay with him, things gladly worked out. 

You and that dog hit it off like nothing else. Goober and you, were both a little stupid and loved eating things that were bad for you. The similarities started a bright spark in a friendship between woman and mutt. You named him after the gelatinous boogers that always formed around his big eyes in the mornings. 

You pushed yourself off your bed, feeling the somehow rough, off-white, carpet grace your feet. Goober in the doorway to your cramped bedroom, tail wiggling about at the idea of breakfast. You rubbed the sleep from your eyes, trying to forget the dream.

You had a therapist. An online one. The real thing was way too expensive. Maurice Moore was his name. He was a single father of two little girls and loved to garden. That was all you knew about him. Your 'sessions' were emails that you sent back and forth, every other day. You'd write your 'report' on how you were doing, physically, mentally, emotionally. Send it, then he'd respond hours later with a dense email that always validated you, but gave you some very realistic, sometimes hard to swallow, bits of advice and anecdotes that you did your best to apply to your everyday life.

You footed the bill for it and didn't mind. You needed someone to listen to all the fucked up shit that happened to you and not beg you to stop or interrogate you for more information. The police were just doing their jobs when they questioned you about the nights events. You told them everything but you changed some details. You said that you all were just reconnecting instead of the fucked up truth. You earned your right to a normal life; it made you feel shitty for not turning yourself in but you fought for your fucking life. It was morally terrible but you weren't going to rot in a cell over some dead kid.

It was ironic. The reason you all came together was to avoid the police. A plan to get their sights off you in the slim scenario they ever caught on. They didn't find the haphazardly hidden bones a teenage Michael hid near the highway. The ' _Rosswood Cabin_ _Massacre_ ' as the media called it, took police attention far from the crushed skull stored in a dusty evidence locker. 

The media was worse then the police. Three weeks into your hospital stay, some small fry crime podcast hosts lied their way into your room with falsified documents. You didn't remember their names, it was just two twenty-something white dudes who tried to guilt trip you for more ' _juicy'_ details. They said something along the lines of, working so hard to get to see you so you should give them at least an exclusive interview. You told them to, quote, _kiss your ass._ You then called for the nurses to escort their phony asses out of the hospital.

It was degrading, you weren't some news article. Yet your face was plastered across news papers all over the country. Some of them echoing the sentiment you'd said before pushing that hooded fuck off the back of that pickup, that you were a real life final girl. It made you sick to your stomach. You'd said it in the heat of the moment but you didn't want to be painted as some real life Laurie Strode or Sidney Prescott. Yet you were anyway. 

_Miraculous Survival!_ One of the papers dubbed your living through the traumatic night. It wasn't miraculous at all. You got lucky. They got cocky. That was it. 

You did your best to take Maurice's advice and not look at the papers. Which was easy during your long stay in the hospital, the nurses and doctors were very aware of your situation and were incredibly respectful of your mental anguish. 

The thing is, when you got out of the hospital, a good friend driving seven hours to drive you back to Corydon from Tuscaloosa's hospital, you bought yourself the cheapest smartphone you could buy. The internet wasn't as curated or censored. 

One sleepless night, you looked up things you shouldn't have on the tiny screen. It was a morbid need to know what happened, it was pure boredom of not being able to go out much, with one leg in a thick cast adorned with the signatures of the nurses. 

The police told you a few things after they went up to the cabin. Not much but you knew things were moved around from what they said. It wasn't that evidence was removed, except the black and white photos of Isaac's bones that Dan had brought, it was that the bodies were moved. They didn't tell you the state they found them in.

The fact that the photos were gone shook you to the core. Didn't they kill everyone over Isaac? Why not lead the police to the conclusion that you were involved? You tried not to think about it, they probably just wanted you even more traumatized.

Something else that got to you was the fact that Hoodie was, shot in the back, axed in the shoulder, and thrown off a car. They didn't find his body, so you assumed that he was very much still alive to your terror.

All of the images were censored by the site but you got a general idea of what the men had done. Somehow, before the police arrived, they gathered every single corpse, and positioned them on the dual couches. You were right when you thought that Dan died a gruesome death. The image may have been censored but you could tell his head was missing from his shoulders. There was a black square on his lap in the photos, censoring what you assumed was his decapitated head.

One of Dan's bloody arms was wrapped around Alexis' slumped shoulders. Jen's corpse was on Dan's other side, limply leaning into him in a staged act of affection that they'd never preformed. The other couch held Michael, feet resting on the broken coffee table, looking as casual as a corpse could. Henry's body was on the other end of the couch, leaning on the arm rest, his crushed head lulling off to the side, censored viscera had dripped onto the floor below.

Your next email to Maurice was a long, distressed one.

You heard all of their funerals were closed casket. You couldn't make it to any of them as they were quick after the bodies were discovered. You were still sitting in the hospital bed, trying not to lose it over every little thing. You visited their graves before leave Tuscaloosa behind for, hopefully, forever. You picked an many dandelions as you could find the in graveyard, which was five. Their burials were rushed, families too distressed by their early and brutal deaths to pick out better lots for their mutilated bodies, so they were all in the same graveyard. You put a dandelion on each of their graves besides Michael's, you couldn't bring yourself to. You put the extra dandelion on Jen's grave, she deserved it. 

Goobers let out a few impatient yips to grab your attention. You looked down at him with a smile and a, "Yeah, yeah." He took initiative and padded into the hallway. With a playful roll of the eyes, you followed the now waist high puppy. He was roughly a year old, but he was huge. He made you feel safer, with his strong teeth that tore apart his plastic squeaky toys but also his comforting whimpers as you held him during your frequent panic attacks. 

You swung into your thin and short hallway adorned with only two doors. One to your bedroom, the other to your cramped bathroom. The opening at the end of it led to your somewhat spacious living room and conjoined kitchen. 

Goober excitedly padded to his empty food bowl that was set next to your door. He looked up expectantly at you as you gave him an amused huff. He was a big dog but he was oddly comfortable in the tiny apartment.

The plastic kitchen tiles felt cold on your unclothed feet as you entered the open space. You glanced over the tiny counter that somewhat divided the kitchen and living room, over at the ecstatic Goober. He was practically bouncing, he was such a silly animal. Turning, you faced the light brown wooden cabinets that stored the cheapest food money could buy. For you and Goober. 

Grabbing the handle, you pulled the cabinet open with a creak. You grabbed the yellow and brown thick paper bag, the contents inside rumbling. You sprung, the paper bag loudly crinkling while you unfolded the top of the bag. As you approached his empty bowl, Goobers wagging tail excited thumped against the wall.

**_Knock, knock._**

You gasped, dropping the bag, luckily it didn't fall on its side and spill the kibble all over your floor. You were frozen, staring at the wall the sound emitted from. It had to have been Goober's tail but his food bowl is near the door. But what if someone was actually knocking on the door? _What if it was them?_

You couldn't do this. You couldn't lose yourself to the little things like this. Today's a big day and you needed to tough it out for your mental recovery. 

You'd been home at your apartment for two weeks. You paid rent in advance with what little savings you had. You may have also splurged a bit on toys for Goober, not to mention the cost to keep him fed. Your savings were wearing thin.

Maurice and you both agreed that going back to work as soon as you readjusted to being back at your apartment would be for the best. Though, it took a little convincing on your part. You wanted to throw yourself into normalcy as soon as possible. Maurice wanted you to relax at home for much longer then you would have liked. So, you came to a compromise, you relax for two weeks at home, go through the motions of being in the new environment, go out a bit, walk the dog, get used to living somewhat normally again. 

When it comes to trauma, it's not just meds and therapy that help a person. It's a lot of physical and mental effort. Maurice called it desensitization, you had to face your trauma head on. Not literally, you weren't going back to Tuscaloosa ever again. It was sounds. You needed to desensitize and recode your brain to sound and touch. Peoples hands on you made you flinch but it was sounds that sent you into a real tizzy. 

The sounds of normal life had you in a state of near constant vigilance. You tried your hardest to _just relax_ but it wasn't that simple. Certain sounds had ingrained a terror so deep into your bones. When you herd loud noises or knocking, the images of their blood and bones filled your mind. 

Throwing yourself back into work was to desensitize your brain to the louder sounds of normal life. Desensitize you from touch as you'd be brushing against people time to time. It terrified you to no end but you were going to put on a brave face and go to work; for your recovery and money.

The first week was rough. It wasn't just the occasional sound of your upstairs neighbors dropping things on their floor, that'd send you into a hyperactive state of terror. It was that for the first week, you had your last cast still on. The one for your right shin. The doctors did a well enough job of patching your busted ass back up. Your right leg was a bit of trouble though. It's an understatement that the damn thing needed just stitches. 

You could walk on it, carefully, slowly. Which would have been fine if you didn't have to walk a very excited Goober. There was a large, wide open park behind your apartment complex. A oblong pond surrounded by a path that was often used by runners and bikers alike. Jungle gyms, benches, swing sets, and children galore. The first time you went, you only lasted three minutes before the activity overstimulated your fried brain. You'd hobbled a disappointed Goober behind you as you made your retreat.

Every time he stood by your door to go for a walk, so he could do his business not on your floors, was a challenge. Maurice said that it was a good place to go. It was safe, wide open, filled with joy. So, you listened to his advice and always made a point to walk Goober there, plastic bag to clean up after him in hand. 

Progress was not linear. On the fourth day of walking him there, you stayed an hour, enjoying the fresh air. The next day, you stayed less than ten minutes before some kids playing baseball hit the ball particularly hard. The crack of the bat had you hobbling and crying back to your apartment. 

At the start of your second week, your local doctor removed the cast, told you to be especially careful on the leg as your kneecap was now very susceptible to becoming dislocated. You needed physical therapy that you couldn't afford and didn't have the heart to ask your family monetarily help for. You took to the internet for answers on how to rehabilitate your weak muscles. It was working okay enough, very slowly.

With a shaky breath, Goober tilting his head and flicking his ear, you steadied your shaking knees. You're okay. They're not here. It was just Goobers tail. You made a mental note to move his food bowls later. You grabbed the bag from the floor, closed the distance between you and Goobers bowl. Tipping the bag and shaking the kibble from it, you watched, a cold sweat still sticking to your skin, as he dove hungrily for the brown pellets.

You pulled away, turning the bag towards your body. Watching a moment as Goober chewed obnoxiously. Cute.

You hurried back to the cabinet, throwing the bag onto the lowest shelf. You could reach that and the middle shelf but never the top shelf. Not without climbing onto the counter looking like a feral raccoon. You were glad you didn't have a roommate to walk in on you, standing on your knees on the counter, eating Oreos at four in the morning after having the your third panic attack that day. 

You had to get ready for work. Sully would be picking you up soon.

Sullivan Gaylord was the kind soul that drove you the seven hour trip back home. Your car was totaled from whatever the men did to it, there was no way you could afford a new one, and the police never gave you back your license, which was weird and kinda shitty. You'd have to get another one.

He was also your co-worker at the diner you worked at. He was the generous, kind type. A person always wearing a kind smile adored with two deep dimples on his cheeks. He had a severe case of resting-nice-face. A real cinnamon bun, ray of sunshine, wholesome, type. Always wore his curly, long ginger hair in a ponytail and his cheeks were peppered with freckles. Also, he's the gayest man you've ever met. 

You rushed into your bedroom, snatching the clothes you'd excitedly set out for yourself last night, as well as your ancient iPhone. You were anxious of the potential triggering sound but you were also incredibly hyped to feel somewhat normal. Though, you'd never be. Survivors guilt and deep trauma would follow you to the grave. Maurice always reminded you that your life is worth it, that it wasn't, as you put it, a waste that you survived and not Jen.

Clothes clutched in hand, you scampered into the bathroom. You threw the clothes onto the closed lid of your toilet. A hand reached into the shower and twisted the knob until a weak stream of water poured lazily from the shower head. You shut the bathroom door, it wasn't necessary but one time Goober pushed the cracked door open and jumped his fat ass into the shower with a confused and screaming you. 

Disrobing as quickly as you could, you threw yourself into the shower. It was ice cold. You jumped from the stream with a yelp. You forgot to check it the water was hot enough yet. You waited at the other end of the shower awkwardly while the water took its sweet time to heat up.

Sticking out a hand to test its heat, you found it was to your liking and allowed yourself to step under the stream. You slapped cheap shampoo into your hair, it said it smelled of lavender but it smelt more like nothing. You followed suit with body wash, which you scrubbed into your skin. 

As you worked away, the shower thoughts flooded into your mind.

Mostly self doubt. The loud voice in the back of you head screaming that if you went to work you'd literally die. You told the voice to shut the fuck up. The most dangerous thing that ever happened at the diner was a drunken brawl between two middle aged men over the spelling of the word 'necessary'. You were going to be okay.

You also bought yourself a taser on Amazon. Was it allowed at work? No. You were going to keep it deep in your font pants pocket and just decide to not tell your boss about it. Having it would ease your anxious mind. 

Hopping out of the shower, turning the water off, you began to hurriedly throw your clothes on. The diners uniform for the waiters was simply a smock that held straws, a notepad and pen. Anything else you wore was of your own volition, as long as it wasn't something wildly inappropriate, you could wear it. You spent a lot of time picking the outfit out the night before. You felt like you had to look cute, you felt like you were going to hit the town and get smashed. Instead, you were going to wait on a colorful cast of regulars and some randoms who were just rolling through town. Confidence was key, so you wanted to wear something that made you feel cute and confident.

So you wore blue high-wasited mom jeans, with a fake leather belt. You threw your (f/c) button up onto your torso, french tucking it into your jeans. You lazily rolled the sleeves up to your forearms, buttoned the shirt up nearly all the way, leaving the top three buttons undone. It's a look. You pulled your socks on, throwing the bathroom door open and running into your living room, phone in hand. Goober turned his head from his meal, regarding you with a wag of the tail. 

You were worried for the big guy. You hadn't really left the apartment much since you came home. Only twice actually, when Sully drove you to the local supermarket. You hoped your next door neighbor would follow through with his promise to walk Goober while you were out. He was the biggest dog person you'd ever met. He was ecstatic about the proposition, you'd mildly compensate him for his time of course but he didn't seem to care much about the money. He'd ramble on and on about his days as a dog breeder. You thought his name was James or Jerry. Weird guy.

Your phone chimed a lighthearted tune, it was Sully. He knew how you felt about knocking. Whenever he came to pick you up he'd call your cell over knocking on your door. You tapped the green icon on your phones screen, bringing it to your ear with a,"I'll be right there!" 

"Okie dokie," Sully's voice chirped from the other end, "I got the butt warmer on all the way up for you, by the way." You could hear the smile in his tone. 

"You know me so well." Smiling, you knelt down, grabbing your white and (f/c) sneakers. "Cya in a sec." 

"Bye!" Sully always said bye on the phone even when he was just about to see you again. 

You hurriedly threw the sneakers onto your feet. They were the same that you wore that night. You'd scrubbed the blood stains the best you could from them. You didn't want to wear them but new shoes were quite expensive. You tried to look at them positively, you smashed one of them into Hoodie's face. Still, there was a very faint brown patch on the side of the left shoe that always gave you a looming sense of doom whenever you looked at it.

Huffing, doing your best to push the thoughts of the horrible man from your mind, you pulled the second sneakers knot taught. Pushing yourself up, you looked to Goober, pointing a finger his way,"Be good to what's-his-name, baby boy." He just wagged his tail, padding towards your hand for a head pat which you gladly gave him. "I'll be back in a few hours!" 

With a wave to the dog, you swung the door open, not letting yourself out before snatching the taser from the low bookshelf that sat against the wall beside your door. Stuffing the taser into your pocket, you let yourself out. Locking the door behind you, you'd given whats-his-name a spare that Charlie gave you when you first moved in. The hallway stretchered on in two directions, the longer way leading to more rooms and an elevator that stupidly slow, the other had a few other rooms and the door to the stairs.

You'd feel bad to keep Sully waiting so you decided to brave the stairs. You were only on the second floor so it wouldn't be that bad. You could walk, somewhat fine, the stairs were just way too steep and made for freaks with long ass legs. Each step being something like nine inches in height, it was ridiculous. You clutched the, probably very dirty, cold steel railing and descended the stairs with care.

At the bottom of the stairwell, there was a thick metal door that led to the main floor. You pushed through it, a wave of air conditioned air hitting you with a refreshing breeze. You entered the main floor with a smile, giddy excitement filling you. You made a beeline for the revolving glass doors, seeing Sully's grey Chevy perfectly parallel parked in front of the concrete apartment complex. 

Pushing yourself in a semi-circle, you exited the revolving door into the cracked sidewalk. Sully's smiling face was turned your way, he gave you a wave. You pulled the car door open with a _'clunk'_. 

"Hey! Hey!" Sully flipped his blinker on the second you shut the door and buckled up.

"Hey." You gave him a small open smile, pushing your phone into your jean pocket.

"You ready?" His tone was one of kind excitement but there was an undertone of concern. He knew how potential disastrous the day could go. 

As he pulled the car into the road with a scarily good smoothness, you answered, "I think so," You huffed, pulling your lips into your mouth, looking down at your lap,"I'm really scared but I know I have to do this." You rubbed your hands together. "It's going to be a good day!" You exclaimed with a shaky determination.

Not looking at you as his eyes were on the road and he was a safe driver,"You're right, you're going to be okay." As he pulled up to a stop sign, he gave you an affirming smile. "Remember, I'm here for you and Emile is fine with waiting on your tables for awhile if you get overwhelmed."

"Thank you," The car rolled forward after he checked both ways,"I'm really thankful that you're helpin' me out and being there for me," You gripped your clothed knees, "You don't have to and I've probably been such a burden and-"

"Stop!" His tone was firm yet not rude,"You're talking yourself down again." He was always a big advocate for self love. "You're not a burden at all. You are a delight! An absolute sweet treat to be around!" 

You chuckled, turning your gaze from your hands and to the road. It was time to look ahead, metaphorically, but you were also doing it literally. "Thanks! You're sweet, ya know? An absolute delight to be around." You threw his words back at him with a playful smile.

Pulling into the morning traffic, Sully drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, contemplating something a moment. A rude car horn sounding behind the car made you jump in your seat, letting out a surprised shriek. "It's okay." He instantly comforted you, "It's just a boomer, you're safe."

One of those masked psychos could have been a boomer, you didn't see any of their faces to confirm it though. However, a boomer probably couldn't be so agile and brush of gunshot wounds. 

You pushed the men from your head. You thought about them too much for your liking. The littlest things made your mind wander their their masked faces, their unclear motives, who they were. The questions nagged at your brain more often then you'd like to admit to but you still told Maurice. Your pride could eat shit, you were healing and you weren't going to let it get in the way.

"Yeah," You forced out a laugh, "Just a boomer." You repeated to yourself, clenching and uncleanching your fists. 

You're fine. You're fine. You're fine.

"Hey so," Sully began, switching lanes, "There's these new regulars." He sounded lighthearted but concerned.

"Okay?" You drawled, eyes switching to his soft features a moment.

"I know that one of them," He muttered out the phrase like if saying it would kill you on the spot, "Had tics and talked a certain way." 

"Yeah?" You pulled your lips into your mouth, you internally begged him not to ask about 'Rogers'.

"One of the new regulars has tourettes, okay?" His concerned gaze glossed over you at the red light. "I can wait on him if you want. I know that might be difficult for you."

You considered taking him up on the offer a moment before shaking your head,"No. Maurice says I have to face this head on. I'll wait on him and it'll be," You took in a sharp inhale, "Okay." You reminded yourself. 

This is a good thing. You could wait on him and not have a panic attack thinking that you were about to get a hatchet to the back like Henry and Jen. You'd face your fear. You wouldn't have a panic attack over some guy's tics and speech patterns. 

"He stays, like," The car continued as the light switched to green,"For hours. Just know, I won't hesitate to take care of him for you at any time." He offered kindly.

"Thank you," You repeated,"I'm going to try my best to not give up his table, though." 

"Alright." He nodded, his tone was a bit solemn. When he spoke again it was more chipper, "Well, it's a good thing he's easy on the eyes."

You snorted. "Really now?"

"He's a total dream," Sully cracked a toothy grin before it faltered a bit,"I will warn you though, he wears this bandage thing on his cheek. He's still super cute but I'm letting you know so you don't stare, he gets weird when people stare, ya know? Think the guys got a scar or something, can see it peaking out from the bandage."

"I get that honestly," You had your own shit that made you not very normal by societal standards, like the fact that you murdered a kid in your junior year of high school, "Probably tired of it."

There was a beat of silence as he drove onward. You wanted to feel normal, just a normal girl going to her normal job, you wanted to small talk, "What about the other new regulars?"

"Oh!" His tone implied that he didn't expect you to start a conversation."There's two of 'em. Forgot their names." He laughed, it wasn't a surprise, he had the memory of a peanut. "But," He held up a finger on the steering wheel with a dramatic pause,"They're, like, super hot." You snorted. "I'm serious like, _super_ hot." His taste in men was very hit or miss, mostly miss. He fell for 'bad boy' types a lot, they were either straight, horrible, or both. When he calls a guy hot, you take it with a grain of salt. Cute usually means, hes aesthetically appealing but not Sully's type.

"Uh-huh." You couldn't help but crack a grin at the flirt. It made you feel normal again, like that night never happened. You'd both used to attempt to discreetly ogle at men that you both agreed were attractive on your breaks. "Continue."

"One of 'em always wears the same flannel, like every time he comes in," Sully crinkled his nose,"Total hottie but smells like he smokes six packs of cigarettes a day."

"I thought you liked guys who smoked?" You recalled him going on about how smokers smelled terrible but they were always so, in his words, _mysterious._

"I do!" Sully exclaimed, saying it so quickly, like he couldn’t risk you not know he thought men with black lung were hot, “I'm just lettin' you know 'cause you're not as," He pondered his words carefully, trying not to sound like he bottomed to every smoker that looked his way, "Used to it as I am." 

"Hah." You couldn't help but smile at his little warning. Customers coming in, smelling terrible, wasn't an uncommon occurrence but sometimes when they smelled really bad it was hard to help yourself from crinkling your nose in disgust. "The other?"

"Absolute," he lightly tapped the steering wheel for emphasis but he didn't hit it too hard, being considerate to your aversion to loud noises,"Daddy energy."

You laughed, really laughed, hard. Your newly healed ribs aching and throbbing from the force but you didn’t mind.

Your laughter only egged him on,"I'm serious!" He exclaimed,"You don't just come in on a motorcycle, wearing a leather jacket by the way," He shook his head in a dramatic show of emphasis, “And not be Daddy."

You continued to laugh at the explicit label for a man you hadn't even met.

"Okay, okay. For real though!" He stopped his bit, "He's literally so sweet. One time, Emile slipped and spilled coffee on the guy once and he apologized to Emile and helped him clean up. He's just so nice, I literally can't." If he wasn't such an adamant safe driver, he'd put a hand on his forehead dramatically. 

"Well," You felt nervous but not in a, ' _I have PTSD and going into work might fuck me up'_ , kinda way but more of a performance anxiety, “You mind if I wait on their tables? I think I could use something easy on the eyes today."

In the circumstances that you weren't horribly traumatized, Sully would have playfully pouted. You were traumatized though, so he didn't pretend to be upset,"Sure!" He sounded enthusiastic actually,"Just remember-"

"You or Emile can take over for me for awhile if I get overwhelmed," You recited the option as Sully pulled the car into the diners parking lot,"I know! I'm going to be okay though," You shifted your tone to one of mischief, "Also, I don't think I'll want to give up their tables, if they're actually cute and not just, hmmmm” You pretended to ponder, “Your type."

Sully pulled into a parking spot with an amused but confident huff," _I swear_ , these guys are so cute." He turned the car off, turning his face fully to you, “You ready?" His tone was serious but didn't hold back his excitement to have to back. He made it very obvious that you were his favorite co-worker.

"As I'll ever be." You unbuckled yourself, turning your attention to the car door.

As you opened the door, you saw you were pulled up next to a motorcycle, so Mr. Daddy-energy was here already. The motorcycle looked to be heavily rusted or covered in dirt; but, you had to admit, it was pretty cool. 

Standing and shutting the car door, a familiar Metallic scent hit your nose. You felt like you'd been punched in the gut, your head spun around every which way, looking for a dead body. It was just a half full parking lot. It was probably just some cars paint job. You're fine.

"(Y/n)?" Sully's voice called you from your moment of bone-crushing anxiety. 

"I'm okay!" You loudly affirmed, speaking too fast to sound like you actually had your shit together.

He rounded the car, concern on his soft features, "Hey, hey," He reached out a hand towards your shaking one, sounding like he was talking to a stray feral cat, "You're not there anymore." You let him take your hand, his touch wasn't harsh, it was gentle, “You're here and you're okay." 

He had to look slightly up at you as he was a good few inches shorter then you, comforting you from below. Your other coworkers often called him a manlet.

You just nodded dumbly and let him lead you towards the diner.

It wasn't that big of a diner. It was modest, aside from its name which was ' _Hot and Crusty Diner'._ You heard whispers from the grape vine that the owners were coke addicts, though you had no idea what that had to do with the name. 

Sully looked over his shoulder to you with an affirming smile as he pulled the glass door open.

You entered the diner behind the ginger boy. Taking in the familiar scenery with a deep breath you looked around. Cushioned red seats, dark brown and shiny tables, booths lining the walls, the large windows that sat next to the booths. The off-white walls adorned with a checkered pattern near the roof, the somehow always dirty grey tile floor. The scent of freshly brewed coffee and pancakes entered your nose. The murmur of the few conversations peppered across the diner. 

The early morning rush had already seemed to pass. You were glad, the morning rush was like a personal hell on earth. 

Sully led you through the doors, the booth that held the cash register sat before you both. Behind the counter was Emile Anderson, local emo high schooler. He liked to dye his hair black, wear studded belts, and wear edgy scream-o band t-shirts. Whenever you saw him outside of work, he'd clip a fake wolf tail to his belt right above his ass. Weird but sweet kid, mostly stuck in 2008.

"Hey, (Y/n)," He waved idly, “Good to see you." You both weren't particularly close, but it was a sweet sentiment from the normally quiet boy.

"Good to see you too." You responded while Sully let go of your hand to scamper behind the booth to grab your aprons and notepads. 

He rounded the table, a thin black aprons bunched up in his hands. "Here you are." He passed you an apron and a yellow notepad that had a pen jammed into its rings.

"Thank you." You idly responded, throwing the thin strap of the apron over your head. It draped lazily over your body, you grabbed the two strings at its sides, pulling them behind your back and tied them to the best of your ability. You got the cleanest apron today, lucky you. Sully got the apron with a big white bleach stain near where his crotch would be. Most of the aprons had some sort of weird stain, some more curious than others. All of them had, in big red print, _'Hot and Crusty_ ' on the top half of the apron.   
While you tied your apron, Sully clocked the two of you. And when you say clock in, you mean he wrote down your names and the time you arrived in an old notebook because the diner was not technologically advanced in any way shape or form. Hot, crusty and not a single computer in the whole building. 

"You ready?" Sully's voice began to shift into his 'customer service' voice, skipping towards you while he expertly tied his apron. 

"Absolutely." You forced the word of confidence form your lips, you hadn't used your 'customer service' voice in months.

"Those regulars just got here, guys," Emile informed, leaning on the counter, "Don't think anyone’s taken their orders yet." You couldn't tell if he was talking about the supposedly hot new regulars or the weird smelly ones.

"(Y/n), you take care of 'em. I'm gonna help April with some of her tables," Sully pointed his head to the paniced looking teen, “Remember-"

"I know, Sully." You appreciated his concern a lot but the constant reminders were getting a little out of hand. "I'll be fine. Now," You looked at the panicked April as she scribbled down order after order, “Go help her. She looks like she's going to pee her pants." 

"I'm on it!" Sully chirped and jogged towards the unattended tables, notepad in hand.

That was your cue to move. You took a deep inhale, did your best to relax your tensed shoulders and made your way past Emile's post. Grabbing a handful of the laminated menus from the counter as you passed. Almost immediately, at one of the tables you saw one of the men Sully had told you about. Flannel guy. He looked horribly bored. The seat across from him was empty. Maybe he got stood up or something. 

You approached, an easy smile found its way onto your lips as you pulled the pen from the notepads rings, “Hello sir!" You stood a few inches from his table. Sully was right, he smelled like a fucking chimney. You didn't crinkle your nose at him, you'd worked at _'Hot and Crusty Diner'_ for roughly two years, you'd had worse smelling customers.

Flannel guy’s head snapped towards you, Sully was right about him. He had dark hair the was partially pushed back as some of it fell messily into his face, deep eye bags, a strong jawline sided by the thickest sideburns you'd ever seen. He's kinda fine. You could imagine the grin on Sully’s face during your break when you'd tell him that you agreed with his wistful sentiments. 

"Sorry for any wait." You shifted your weight to your left side idly, “I'm (Y/n), I'll be your," you'd worked this job forever but never got used to the line that you had to say to every customer, “Hot and crusty waitress today." You slid a menu onto the table, fixing the rest of them under the arm that held the pen. "Can I start you with anything to drink?"

He just stared at you. Probably just didn't know what he wanted or he was stunned by the fact that you'd just called yourself hot and crusty.

"The usual." Flannel guys tone was even but amused. A little familiar but you didn't want to try to remember if you went to high school together or not, whenever you recognized someone while working it was usually some distant acquaintance from high school.

"Oh, I'm sorry sir," You began, softening your voice, the customer service was all about sounding completely subservient and polite, “I've never taken your order before." You didn't want to say you were on leave, then he might ask.

He just blinked, you kept your smile plastered on your face. Frowning increased your chance of little to no tip. "Sir?" You asked again.

"I'll just have to fill you in then, huh?" He drawled, there was an undertone of condescension. It didn't bother you in the slightest, you'd had weirder and ruder customers.

"Mhm!" You nodded, readying your pen. 

"I'll take my coffee black." He slid then menu towards you, you supposed him having _'a usual_ ' in the first place meant he didn't need it. "Veggie Omelet, that's it." You didn't expect the heavy smoker to order something somewhat healthy. To each their own.

"I'll have your coffee right out for you, sir," You picked up the menu, placing it under your arm with the others, "Just holler for me if you need anything."

"Thanks, _(Y/n)."_ There was something off about the way your name rolled off his tongue. It sent a sharp chill down to your core, you just kept your well practiced customer service smile plastered onto your face, you really hated it when customers called you by your name. Especially with such familiarity. Kinda creepy, even if he was cute.

"Anytime." You chirped, a crack in your service tone. You didn't have the time to get freaked out by some guys voice, you couldn't let something as simple as that be your downfall. You thought dimly, as if earlier that morning your dogs tail hitting the wall had you frozen. 

You passed his table, looking ahead to the back of a head in a nearby booth. You'd take a few more orders before braving your way into the kitchen to get their drinks. The kitchen was where you dreaded to go the most, it was always loud in there. You needed to get some work done before you possibly have a breakdown.

"Hello! Sorry for the wait." You stood at attention before the booth. Your gaze was met by who you automatically recognized from Sully’s vague description. It was Daddy-energy! You could only tell by the fact that you'd never seen him before and the fact that he wore a leather jacket that looked like it'd seen better days. 

He turned his attention from the window, looking up to you with a smile. Sully again was right, this one was easy on the eyes too. Square jaw, light brown hair that was swept across his forehead, bit of facial hair, and a tooth gap in the middle of cutely crooked toothy grin. "I'm (Y/n). I'll be your-"

"Hot and crusty waitress?" Daddy energy finished the embarrassing line for you with a playful smile. He really was a regular.

You let out a laugh, "Yeah," You began to pull the menu from under your arm, "Can I get you anything to start with?"

"No need to pull that out," He shifted in his seat, sitting up straight, he was a really tall guy, "I'll take a cafe mocha and a tall stack of chocolate chip pancakes." The man labeled as sweet likes sweets then, huh? 

You pushed the menu back under your arm, these new regulars were easy customers, huh? You scribbled his order down, “Anything else I can get for you, sir?"

"Brian." So that's what Daddy energy's name was, good to know. "Nice to meet you." He held out a hand, which was fucking huge compared to yours.

You stared at it a moment, you weren't used to customers wanting to shake hands with you. Touching a stranger was also a mildly alarming idea after that night. You decided you'd brave though it to not appear rude.

"I don't bite." He said with a small chuckle, your anxiety riddled brain told you that the look in his eyes was trouble, that he was dangerous, his brown eyes intensely staring into your own (e/c) eyes. You told your brain to shut up, you were determined to not freak out. This man didn’t want to hurt you. 

Deciding to lighten your own mood, you took his hand and opened your mouth to make a joking threat, "Well, I do," Your brain flashed the memory of biting Hoodie’s wrist, "Watch out." You laughed, pushing the memory away. You had to re-code your brain to not be freaked out by certain words and phrases somehow. Might as well do it with a smile.

His grip tightened suddenly on your hand, "I know." He deadpanned. 

You furrowed your brows at him with a partially opened mouth. The handshake was going on far too long and his grip was incredibly hard, it reminded you of the iron grip that shattered your bones.

You tugged your hand away, there was no hope that you could get your hand from his grip but you hoped the social cue would make him stop. Your polite customer service smile was really beginning to falter, you told yourself that he just said that on instinct. Like when you order a pizza and say 'I love you' to the guy on the phone then have to hang up awkwardly and hope he forgets. That was all that was. You were fine.

He let go with your tug, you were glad that he understood the quiet cue, that he knew when to stop, "I'll have that right out, Brian." You tried your best to sound casual and polite, you think you did okay.

"Thank you!" He chirped with a sweet smile, he didn't look away from you as you turned on your heel. His eyes bore into the back of your head, and it took everything in you not to hobble away as fast as you could.

These regulars sure are a bit socially awkward, you hoped the third wouldn't be as bad. You'd dealt with literal heroine addicts before but sometimes the smaller things customers did were more off-putting. Subtly can be more alarming then in-your-face kinds of things. Then again, you'd take someone who didn't understand social cues any day over one of the many crazy-asses that were forever banned from the diner.

There was only one more person in the area ahead, the mess of brown hair wasn't the bleached blonde mullet of Crackhead Doug, it must have been the third new regular. You padded over to the booth, three booths away from Brian’s. 

"Hey there, sorry for the wait sir!" You began to recite your lines,"I'm (Y/n), I'll be your hot and crusty waitress today." Without completely taking in his appeared you grabbed a menu and began to slide it towards him. "Can I get you anything to drink?" 

The second you looked at him you knew that he was going to be difficult for you. The sticker, bandage, thing on his cheek told you he was the regular with tourettes. You had to keep your cool. You had to do this. You gulped, you could do this. 

If you discounted the fact that his tics could possibly send you into a panicked tizzy, he was cute. Donning a black turtle neck, a wild mess of untamed brown hair, a playful smile, stubble peppering his jaw, and a spark of mischief in his bright brown eyes. He had to be starving as he seemed ecstatic to see you.

"I'll just hah-have a water." Bandage boys voice was an easy tone but there was a very obvious note of happiness beneath his words. He rolled his shoulders back stiffly a few times as he grabbed and slid the menu towards himself. He seemed like he didn't have his order completely memorized and ready by heart.

The single stutter and tic had you stiff. You had to walk into the kitchen to get his and the other men's drinks but you couldn't seem to move your knees. All you could see was Jen’s slumping corpse as you pulled Rogers’ hatchet from her back.

You're fine. You're fine. You're fine.

"Are you like, uh-okay?" Bandage boys tone shifted to a sneer. He must have been thinking you were staring at him, Sully warned you about that! 

"So sorry sir! I'll get your water right away!" You rushed out the words, internally smacking yourself for your possible unknown rudeness. You scampered away from his table. You wanted to get away from him as soon as possible. You just needed a short break, you weren't going to throw in the towel. You were to determined to make it through the day without freaking out.

Rushing past Sully who shot you a concerned glance, you made your way to the doors of the kitchen. Pausing before you did, taking a few seconds to do your deep breathing exercises. Flexing your fingers into fists, you pushed the doors to the kitchen open. 

A wave of intense heat hit you. You never knew how the chefs dealt with it. No one paid you any mind as they rushed about; you never went very far in as a server. There were two rows of silver stoves lining the room, metal shelves housing ingredients between them. You only really used the refrigerator and drink bar beside it. The kitchen was severely understaffed so all drinks were up to the waiters to take care of.

Ripping the page from the notepad, you approached the metal table where waiters, like yourself, left orders to be filled out. Once done, the chefs would leave said orders on the table. The system wasn't the best but it worked and the owners never really set any decent protocols for how things were supposed to work. You put the yellow note onto the table, and turned on your heel, catching a glimpse of one of the younger staff members snatching it to get to work. 

You hurried yourself over to the drink bar. The coffee machine had a half-full pot of hot coffee ready. Flannel guys drink was pretty much already done. The sounds of kitchenware scraping and the sizzling of cooking food had you jump nearly out of your skin. It was just people working, calm down. With a sharp exhale, you grabbed two thick white mugs from a cabinet under the bar. They clinked as they were set onto the counter. You moved about, making Brain's cafe mocha as quickly as you could, the kitchens heat reminded you of the pain from that night. 

On a round plastic tray, you carefully stacked the three drinks and expertly balanced it on one hand. You pushed yourself out the kitchen with care, if you dropped the drinks you'd have to go back in and remake them. Not to mention having to clean up your mess.

You found yourself to bandage boys table first. You set down the cool glass of water in front of him while he still scanned the menu. He looked up from it with mild interest. "Just let me know wh-"

"I as-asked for ice cubes." Bandage boy stated simply. 

"Oh!" You didn't remember that but it happens all the time, "I'll get you ice cubes right away!" You smiled, grabbing the glass and putting it back on the tray. First, you had to get the other men their drinks.

"Here you are," You set Brian's cafe mocha on the table, he turned his gaze from the window up to you, "Your food will be out shortly!" 

"Thank you." He pulled the mug towards himself as he turned away. 

You set the mug of black coffee on flannel guys table with a smile, "Your food will be ready in a few."

"It better be." Flannel guy didn't look at the coffee before him. He just looked you dead in the eyes. He wasn't your rudest customer by a long shot, it didn't phase you much.

"Of course sir," You smiled, turned, and headed back to the kitchen. 

A second wave of heat hit you as you entered the kitchen. You set the tray down, trying your best to ignore the miscellaneous background noises. You whipped the door of the refrigerators freezer open, snatching the cold ice tray from its middle shelf, leaving it open. You shook out a few chunky ice cubes into bandage boys water. You filled the now empty spaces in the ice tray with tap water before setting it back into the freezer. 

Not bothering to grab the tray, just the glass, you exited the kitchen. You once again approached bandage boys table and set the glass down,"So sorry about that, sir." 

He just stared at the glass with a frown on his lips but the spark of mischief still bright in his eyes. "Actually, cuh-could I get water without any ice cuh-cubes?" He rolled his head to the side, his neck popped and you did your best not to cringe.

So he was the indecisive type? A bit annoying but no real problem.

"Alright!" You grabbed the glass once again, "Just let me know when you're ready to order." 

You entered the kitchen a third time, the heat dully reminding you of that night again. You pushed the memories away as best you could. You emptied the glass, quickly pouring an ice free glass.

You hurried from the kitchen, out of the corner of your eye Sully shot you a smile. You had been working nearly ten minutes without locking yourself in the bathroom and crying on the nasty floor. 

"Here you are." You hummed, sliding the glass before the brunet.

No thank you came from him, he just slid the menu your way, "I'll ta-ta-take the two sunny side up eggs with a side of hash browns."

"Alright, it'll be-" You began, taking the menu from his table.

"Can I get some ice cubes?" He asked, lips pulling into his mouth, trying to hold in a smile.

_Was he fucking with you?_

"Sure thing!" You did your best to keep your 'this-is-fine' customer service tone. Scribbling his order onto your notepad before grabbing the glass again.

Entering the kitchen for the fourth time, you put the order on the table and made your way to the drink bar. You once again, put ice cubes in the boys drink then exited the kitchen. 

You set the drink before him, harder then before, silently telling him to quit it. "Your food will be ready soon."

"Actually, cuh-could I get my water without ice cubes?" He wasn't even hiding his delighted smile.

You couldn't tell him to fuck off, that'd get you in trouble with the manager. "Of course!" You chirped, snatching the glass from the table. His tics and stutter reminded you heavily of Rogers but the building annoyance at the man-child might over shadow the trauma induced fear.

Entering the kitchen again, you saw that Brian and flannel guy's food was ready. At least you didn't come in here for nothing. You fixed bandage boys drink, putting it on the plastic tray with the other men's food. 

You passed bandage boy, you'd go to him last as a little fuck you. 

"Enjoy!" You placed the heap of pancakes before Brian with a smile, "Just let me know if you need anything!"

"Thanks, I will." He said with a smile. It felt good to not have him ask you go back to the kitchen. 

"Here you are," You set the omelette before the flannel guy, "Would you like a refill?" You asked, eyeing his empty mug.

"Yeah, I'm going to be here a _long_ time so keep that in mind." Flannel guy again gazed intently into your eyes. 

That was a mildly intense way of saying that he wanted you to keep the coffee flowing, but whatever. "Alright! I'll be right back." 

Before you went to refill his coffee, you set the ice free water before bandage boy. You didn't even say anything in hopes he'd not say what you thought he was going to. He did anyway.

"Hey, can I guh-get some ice cubes?" He snickered into a gloved hand.

_Motherfucker._

 _"Of course,"_ You sucked your lips into your mouth. His stutter sending chills down your spine but his request sent your brain into an internal rant about the cheeky fuck.

Snatching the glass you marched into the kitchen, huffing angrily as you entered. You refilled the black coffee, then added a single ice cube to the glass as the freezer was quickly running out. With all the ones you wasted on him and all the other servers grabbing them for their customers drinks, you had to conserve them for people who actually wanted them. Also, it filled you with pride, he asked for ice cubes but you gave him an ice cube. You felt that'd give you the final word in your silent war, that you were losing because he was having a great time and on the inside, you were getting a little salty. 

You swung the kitchen door open, stormed over to bandage boy and slammed the glass on his table, " _Enjoy."_ You said through gritted teeth and a fake smile.

You turned on your heel,"Could I hah-have no ice cube." So he took note of the single cube. 

Oh you'll give him no cube. 

You placed the tray holding flannel guys black coffee on the table. You snatched a spoon from beside bandage boys hand," _Of course, sir."_ You dunked the spoon into the glass and fished out the cube. You snatched a napkin from the little metal box in the center of the table, placed it beside the cup, and put the ice cube on it. "It's there if you want it." You said sickeningly sweet. 

Bandage boy was stunned a moment at your absolute power move. You drunk in the stupid look on his face with extreme pride. You weren't going to take anyone's shit, especially after that night. You grabbed the tray as he just stared at the ice cube on the napkin.

"Here's your refill, sir." You placed the mug on the table with a strained smile. "Are you finding everything okay?" 

"Oh, absolutely!" Flannel guy was grinning,"I'm really enjoying the show."

You quirked a brow at him for a moment before remembering the chunky tv's hung around the diner. They were always muted, big black subtitles filling the viewer in on what was going on. They mostly played grainy footage of old football games.

"I'm glad," You said idly, "Call me if you need anything!" You grabbed the tray, heading for the kitchen, bandage boy's food was probably ready. 

As you passed his table he spoke,"Excuse muh-me."

_Oh my fucking God._

 _"Yes?"_ You sharply spun on your heel, clutching the tray as hard as you could. You were so over this kid.

"Could I get cha-chocolate milk?" He tilted his head with an innocent smile. He was cute but an absolute rat bastard.

" _Of course."_ Not even some of the crackheads weren't this annoying. " _You're sure you want chocolate milk?"_ You just had to make sure.

"Yes," He spoke like you were stupid, "Wha-why would I be unsh-unsure?" 

You just hummed and snapped around. 

You'd never wanted to smack a customer so hard with your serving tray.

You stormed past a confused Sully, nostrils flaring angrily. You burst into the kitchen, his food was resting on the metal table. You contemplated spitting in it a moment. No, that was too mean and could also get you fired; you were more worried about keeping your income then getting a one up on an annoying customer. You haphazardly threw together a cup of chocolate milk, which you also considered spitting in. You didn't, but the urge was strong.

Tray balancing on your hand once again, you exited the kitchen for what felt like the millionth time. You could feel your fake smile falter as you approached the brunette bastard. "Here you are." You removed the polite ' _sir'_ from your practiced lines. 

He didn't say a 'thank you', which you believed was well deserved. You regretted not spitting in his food when you had the chance. "Excuse me?"

Before you could turn to check on Brian, the little fuck called to you once more. " _What?"_ You could hardly hide the malice dripping from your tone.

"I ah-asked for sunny sssuh-side up eggs," His voice irked you as much as it horrified you,"These are sch-scrambled." He stated simply. 

" _So sorry,"_ You weren't in the slightest, he was right but you were still over it, "I'll send that right back to the kitchen and get it fixed for you. _"_

"Be quick about it. I'm stuh-starving." Bandage boy grumbled, resting his cheek on his gloved hand. The memory of the men's gloves shot through you as you really noticed it, almost feeling Masky's rough gloves tugging through your hair. You didn't freeze up but you did audibly gasp and scamper away to the kitchen, his uneaten plate of food in your shaking hands.

He's just an annoying man-child with tourettes who's cold. Calm your ass down.

You're fine.

**\----**

The shift went better then expected. You didn't have a panic attack in a grungy bathroom! Hooray! You did have to deal with bandage boy for the entire shift though. Sully wasn't kidding when he said the new regulars stay at the diner for a long time. You had to look at his cute and infuriating face on and off for nearly four hours. By the end of the shift, you were ready to fucking taze him. He stopped sending you back to the kitchen as much, after you got him the right order. However, he still did, over and over and over. You would spit in his food if it wasn't illegal and would get your broke ass fired. 

Brian left you a very generous tip, maybe seeing the hell his fellow regular put you through. He even draw a little smiley face on his receipt before leaving on his motorcycle. Cool guy despite the odd first impression.

You kept the coffee flowing for flannel guy your entire shift. You had never seen someone drink so many cups of coffee. On your ten minute break with Sully, you both silently stared at him from across the diner. He was on his tenth cup and wasn't phased at all. He had to be inhuman. 

Sully was politely smug about the fact that he was right, the new regulars were hot. You told him bandage boy was his type, he likes bad boys. Well, bandage boy was the fucking worst. You shit talked the brunette the entire way home.

You and Sully said your goodbyes as you exited his car. You felt good! Despite the annoyance at work, you'd toughed out the entire shift, facing your trauma head on and dealing with an annoying customer. It was oddly refreshing to deal with someone like that. You were partially grateful to bandage boy but not that much, you still wanted to smack his smug smirk right off his face. 

"Goober! I'm home!" You called into your apartment as you swung the door open. 

Goober was on your mothball smelling, baby puke green, couch. He was standing at attention to the window, tail wagging. The window led to a metal platform with stairs going up and down to other apartment windows. 

You didn't remember opening it. You made a mental note to tell what's-his-name to not open your windows while you were out. He may be walking your dog but that didn't give him the right to move stuff.

"Goober?" You called to the excited looking pup. You could really use some puppy love right about now.

His head whipped to you with an excited bark, immediately forgetting whatever in the alleyway below had him so happy. You closed the window, hearing the faint sound of a motorcycle engine nearby.


	9. 8 - Sorry, Did I Make You Scream?

"He's probably just sleeping in, don't worry about it!" Sully pulled the car away from the curb. 

"I'm not really worried," You looked out the window to your apartment building, "I know he's good with dogs and stuff but I just want to make sure he plays with Goober too! I don't want my stinky baby boy getting bored while I'm work today."

Before leaving, you'd knocked on whats-his-name's door to tell him to walk Goober in the park and bring what you called Goober's 'wubby'. He didn't open the door. You'd seen that guy up at the ass-crack of dawn to go on jogs before. You could also hear him making breakfast smoothies incredibly early in the morning on most days. He was one of those big health nuts. A health nut that was always up annoyingly early.

"Just call him on your ten," You turned your gaze from the apartment and to the ginger, "I'm sure you'll get through while he's walking the lil guy." 

You shrugged in response, dropping the topic, "Hey, can you take care of bandage boys table today?" 

"I'd love to! Can't wait to have him boss me around." Sully chirped innocently as he drove ahead.

" _Oh my god,"_ As annoying as he was, having a customer to be annoyed at took your mind off your circumstances just a bit,"You're going to regret saying that, he is going to run your little ass around the block." You snorted with a playful roll of the eyes. 

"Ooh Daddy, make me really work for that eleven dollars an hour!" Sully let out a fake and obnoxious moan, he was as sweet and kind as he was a bottom.

"That twig of a man-child is not a fucking daddy. That is a skeleton, Sully, a skeleton." You put your hands to your temples in faux annoyance with a disappointed shake of the head. Bandage boy looked like your average 'twitter white boy of the month'. Cute but you'd seen his type before.

"What about _Brian_ then?" Sully rolled the mans name off his tongue with way too much enjoyment,"Tell's you his name the _first time_ you meet, shakes your hand, leaves a big tip with a smiley face!" He raised his brows and puckered his lips, still looking to the road ahead. "It sounds like he wants to be your daddy."

You snorted and cringed, you'd playfully slap him but the sound of flesh on flesh would send goosebumps all over your body, "He's just a nice guy. I've had plenty of nice customers who didn't want to be my," You paused, Sully waiting expectantly for you to say the 'D' word, " _Father figure."_

Sully giggled, tapping the steering wheel, "Yeah, sure, okay." He wiggled his fingers in a playfully dismissive way, "Flannel guy kinda has that vibe about him too."

"Nah, I just he's kinda socially awkward." You shifted your gaze to the car-side window, watching cars approach from behind, noting a figure on a motorcycle not far behind Sully's car, "He's just a smoker so you want him to top you."

Sully sucked his lips into his mouth, "Noooooooooo." He lied jokingly. 

"Uh-huh." Talking like this made you feel like going to work wasn't a herculean task.

He gave up his act, "Okay, maybe I'd let him smash."

**\----**

_"MARTINEZ, WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?"_

_"HENRY! BEHIND YOU!"_

**\----**

**_"Anything? really?"_ **

_"Anything!"_

_**"Then die."** _

_**\----** _

_"WAIT! NO, PLEASE!"_

**\----**

"(Y/n)?" Sully's voice called you from the echos of the past with a jolt.

You let go of a breath you weren't aware that you'd been holding. You ran a hand through your hair, taking deep breaths just like Maurice told you. You screwed your eyes shut, trying not to see the blood and viscera in your minds eyes. "Don't say that word please." 

"Oh! I'm so sorry!" Sully sounded like he felt horrible about the slip of the tongue.

Opening your eyes, gaze to your knees, "It's fine. Just-" You chose your words carefully to not make him feel even more guilty, "Try not to say words like that. I know it was an accident, don't feel bad."

"I'm so, so, sorry, (Y/n). Won't happen ag-" He sounded like he'd just kicked a puppy.

"You don't need to be. It's okay. Really." You reassured firmly, you didn't want him to beat himself up over something so little. A little something that sent a wave of horrible memories up to your brain but he didn't need to know all the gory details. Literally. He didn't need to know that you could never step on a bug again after seeing Michael squished like an insect under Hoodie's steel toed boots, that you couldn't even look at Orange 'Crush' without feeling nauseous. He didn't need to feel any worse for you.

The car pulled into Sully's usual parking spot, near the side of the diner, in silence. "Let's just get to work and have a good day, okay?" You suggestion with a weak smile. 

Sully opened and closed his mouth, he probably wanted to apologize a million more times but didn't want to make you upset, so he didn't press any further. "Of course." 

You both exited the car in a mildly awkward silence. Walking side by side, both of your eyes were pulled towards two vehicles that pulled into the parking lot. The guy on the motorcycle was obviously Brian, wearing the same worn leather jacket and black leather boots; you didn't pay much attention to the mini-van that pulled up beside his bike. 

You looked down at Sully, rounding the corner to the front of 'Hot and Crusty Diner', he looked very interested in the man. So interested that he was about to trip over a fake plastic plant decoratively placed near the diner doors. You snatched his arm, making him pause and pull his gaze from the man. "Watch where you're going, lover boy." You spoke quietly, not wanting anyone to overhear.

"I owe you my life." Sully dramatically whispered your way, if he tripped over himself in front of a hot guy he'd lock himself in the diners freezer the entire shift. You stopped him out of concern, but also, if he locked himself in the freezer you'd have to deal with bandage boy. 

You smiled, "Sure, okay."

Sully made a show of walking around the fake plant and holding the diners door open for you, "Why thank you." You cooed as you walked into your workplace. 

"Thanks, man." Your ears picked up on the oddly familiar voice of flannel guy.

"Anytime, _sir_." God, Sully was so thirsty. 

You ignored the interaction, giving Emile a wave as you passed him to clock in and grab your apron. You got the apron splattered with dried chunks of something brown. No one on the wait staff knew what it was. _It could be blood_ , your brain supplied helpfully. You shook your head to clear the morbid thought; no more of that today! It was going to be a good day, you would make sure of it. You switched on your "customer support mode" and grabbed a little note pad.

"Take a seat where ever you'd like." You turned to flannel guy, who not surprisingly, was wearing the same red and black flannel. "I'll be right with you, sir." Your 'sir' didn't have the thirsty edge to it like Sully's did.

Tying your apron behind your back, you grabbed a stack of menus as more patrons began to file in. The morning rush you'd missed yesterday was coming and you weren't looking forward to it. At least you didn't have to deal with bandage boy.

Customer service smile on your face, you padded over to the same table flannel guy sat at the day before. "Good to see you again!" You chirped, the peppier you were with customers, the bigger the tip, usually, "Black coffee and a veggie omelet for you, sir?" You recalled the man's 'usual'.

"Glad you remember," He leaned back in his seat, drumming his fingers on the table, "If you didn't, I'd have to kill ya." 

You weren't one for jokes about death and killing at the moment. But you were broke and needed that tip so you forced out a laugh and a, "I'm glad I get to live another day. I'll have that coffee out to you in a minute." You turned on your heel to take care of the next table, not wanting to continue the upsetting banter.

"Good morning! I'm (Y/n), I'll be your hot and cr-" You didn't look up from the yellow notepad as you scribbled down flannel guys order.

"Hot and crusty waitress?" You rose your brows with a smile as you looked up from the yellow notepad. 

Just like the day before, Brian had finished the line for you with a cutely crooked grin. You didn't even notice him come in, though it should have been obvious since you saw him outside.

You giggled, you couldn't tell if it was your polite 'the customer is always funny' giggle or a genuine one. "Well, this hot and crusty waitress, would like to know what you'd like to start with?" You decided to be playful with him, for a tip and because he was hot. 

He let out an amused huff, "Cafe mocha and a tall stack of chocolate chip pancakes, thank you miss hot and crusty waitress." 

You smiled at his banter, "I'll have your beverage right out for you." You passed his booth, heading to the next table. Seeing Sully head to bandage boys table, you sent him a silent prayer. Poor guy was about to deal with a hell of a lot more then the morning rush.

You wrote order after order, the diner filled up faster then you'd ever recalled. The chefs had their work cut out for them, that was for sure. Opening the thick door, the hot air slapped you in the face, it was worse then yesterday. It felt like the Alabama heat. You shuddered, pausing to take a shaky breath, you're fine.

You put the note filled with orders on the metal table and made your way to the drink bar. You saw the back of Sully's head, ponytail swaying as he worked away. "Hey!" You shouted over the hustle and bustle of the kitchen.

"Hey yourself!" He was filling a glass of water. 

"Bandage boy?" You smirked, grabbing coffee mugs from the cabinet.

"Yes," He answered, prepping drinks for other customers, "He's fine so far."

"Just you wait," Bitchily gossiping about the customer made you feel a little bad, "He's going to have you running back and forth all shift." Only a little.

"Ooh Daddy, make my shift horrible!" Sully put on an obnoxiously happy face.

You cackled, pouring coffee, "He's not daddy, he's skin and bones!" You said the phrase unconsciously but as soon as you said it you paused, coffee still pouring.

**\----**

**** _"Lets' just cut the shit and talk about the bones."_

_A black circle covered up his neck. There was a lack of mass where his head should have been. Then, your eyes fell to the big black square on his lap. You wondered if his decapitation was a call back to Isaac's found bones, just a skull and vertebrae. You wondered if they bashed his skull in too._

**\----**

The scalding coffee on your hand pulled you from your memories. You yelped, pulling your hand away from the deep brown liquid pouring over the mugs edges.

"(Y/n)? Are you okay?" Sully looked like he wanted to put a reassuring hand on you but was unsure if it was okay to touch you.

"Yeah." You shakily exhaled, shaking out your burning hand, "My hand will be fine." You knew he wasn't asking just about your slowly reddening hand. 

Setting down the coffee pot, you poured the excess coffee from the mug. "(Y/n), ple-" Sully's hands carefully approached the mug that you set on the counter. 

"Sully." You stated firmly, "I just want to work. Shit happens, I'm fine. I'm getting better." You were shaking and your heart was racing. You said the words like a mantra, you hoped saying them aloud actually made things better.

You placed as many drinks as you could on your serving tray, Sully's concerned gaze still on you, "Just be careful, okay Queen?" His tone was sincere but the stupid nickname knocked the seriousness of the statement down a peg.

A little laugh escaped your throat as you pushed the kitchen door open," Of course." 

Table to table, you placed down drinks with your fake customer service smile. Your earlier episode still hanging on the back of your mind but you were determined to not have a breakdown. You could get through another day of work without having something horrible happen.

"Here you are, Brian. Your food will be ready shortly." You handed the man his cafe mocha, your hands brushed together for a moment. His hands were calloused and rough but his touch was gentle unlike the handshake you had exchanged the previous day. 

"Thank you!" His tone was even yet kind, he was smiling. He had such a killer smile, you had never been so charmed by a tooth gap and a slight grin.

You turned to give another customer their drink. There was no thank you from them. You didn't think much of it. You just had one drink left to deliver, flannel guys.

**_Knock, knock._**

With a quick yet shrill shriek, you jumped, the serving tray coming into the air with you. You tried to snatch the falling tray or at least the falling mug as they fell but you didn't catch either. 

**_Crack!_**

The loud sound of shattering porcelain or ceramic or whatever the fuck the mug was made of was like a punch to the gut. It was reminiscent of the sound the crowbar wielding crazy ass's mask getting chipped by a dirty bowl. It was a proud moment but one you didn't like to think about. 

"Oh my!" You breathed out, eyes wide, you couldn't get the mans masked face out of your head, "I'm so sorry, sir!" You apologized to flannel guy, you were right in front of his table when you dropped his coffee. You hoped it didn't get on his clothes. The last time an employee spilled hot coffee on a customer, they tried to sue. They didn't win but it was a hassle and everyone got lectured to not drop hot shit on customers, like your co-worker meant it.

"Are you okay?" Your customer service smile and tone were gone, you looked panicked and you rushed out your words, your chest was tight. You felt like you were back in that cabin, Alexis on the floor with a bullet in her tit. 

Conversations stopped, eyes were on you. You wanted to curl into a ball. 

"Uh, yea," Flannel guy hard an unreadable spark in his eye at your concern, "Are you?"

"Yes!" You barked out, straightening up, you had to just keep working, "I'll clean that up right away and get you another cup of coffee." You informed, trying your best to steady your voice.

You padded away as fast you could, trying to do your breathing exercises. Progress isn't linear and there's always setbacks but you wanted to make it though another day without freaking out. You could tough it out, you're fine, just calm down.

Behind the counter where Emile stood, there were miscellaneous cleaning supplies under the booth. You put your menus down on the counter. You snatched a handful of paper towels.

Just like Henry had done for Alexis after she was shot for the first time.

You shook the thoughts away, ignoring Emile's, "Hey, you good?" 

Grabbing the thick broom handle and dirty dustpan, you rushed back over to Flannel guy's table. Setting the dustpan down, you could hear that the conversations had resumed and normalcy washed over the diner. 

"Sorry about scaring you." Flannel guy droned out as you carefully swept up the white shards.

"Don't be," Your customer service voice was starting to slip back on, "It's my bad." With the last of the shards in the dustpan, you knelt down to soak up the coffee. 

"It's a habit of mine," He talked away as you moved the paper towels about, "My co-workers and I do it to catch people's attention while on the job."

Him telling you a miscellaneous, unneeded fact about himself was oddly reassuring. It reminded you of having a more normal time at work, being annoyed with customers rambling on about themselves, while you just smiled and nodded. It felt normal. 

Deciding to use it as a chance to calm yourself, you took up the chance to strike up a shallow conversation, "Oh, what do you do for a living?" You asked idly, watching the paper towels stain brown.

"I'm a hunter." Huh, you always thought hunting was more of a hobby than a job. You picked up the sopping paper towels, as your brain asked; _did he say catch peoples attention?_ He must mean other hunters or his co-workers so he doesn't get hurt.

"Ah," You did your best to sound pleasantly surprised, the thought of meat, killing, and hunting, filled you with fearful disgust, "How is that?"

"It's a great job, lots of fun." He informed you with a slight smile as you stood, gingerly holding the full dustpan and dirty towels.

You didn't want to hear about how enjoyable it was, "I'll be right back." You politely excused yourself, making a beeline for the trashcan. You swung back to his table to grab the broom and the serving tray, "So sorry, again." 

"I tend to scare people a lot, I'm used to it." You didn't like the weird sense of pride in his tone. 

"I'll get you your coffee." You hollowly responded, not looking his way as you made your way to Emile's post. 

"I got it." The scrawny teen reached for the broom, his other hand passing you the menus you'd left.

Grabbing the menus with a, "Thanks." You made your way to the kitchen to grab flannel guy another drink. 

Most of your customers meals were ready and waiting on the metal table. You poured flannel guys drink, first, feeling bad about delaying his simple drink so long, as he seemed to run solely on coffee. You set the drink and as many dishes as you could onto your serving tray. With a long deep breath, you pushed yourself out of the kitchen. You were fine.

You went to flannel guys table first, you felt like you owed it to him, "Here you are." You put the mug on the table with a renewed smile, doing your best to not appear rattled as fuck. 

Flannel guy chuckled, grabbing the mug, "Just don't let it happen again." You figured he was just back at it with his weirdly dry humor. You weren't a fan but hey, he was probably trying to make you feel better.

With a hum of acknowledgment, you turned, glancing at your tray, you had three plates to give out before having to go to the kitchen to grab a few more. 

On your last plate, which was a stack of chocolate chip pancakes, you made your way to Brian. He always seemed to be looking out the window, "I hope you enjoy!" You set the ceramic plate before the man, customer service smile fully back on your face.

"Thank you," He grabbed a fork and you began to turn, "Excuse me?" His words were soft, sympathetic. 

"Yes?" You had flashbacks to bandage boy and hoped to God he wasn't about to pull that shit.

"You're (Y/n) (L/n) right?" Your full name brought a pit to your stomach, you knew what was coming but internally begged him to not ask any prying questions.

"Mhm." Humming with a nod, you shifted your weight to your left side, an anxious habit. 

"I see," He paused a moment, looking you dead in the eyes, "I'm so sorry about what happened. That must have been scary." You were used to peoples voices knocking up a few octaves when they spoke of that night to you, sounding like they were talking to a dog. Brian's voice didn't do that at all, his voice stayed the same, his eyes stared straight into yours.

Whenever people talked about that night, you'd usually have to cry; their words opening the floodgates of trauma. It was never intentional and you always tried to play it off with a joke and smile but it got to you.

"No need to worry about me," You gave him an uneasy smile, you had to say something stupid immediately or you'd start sobbing, "I'm a bad bitch. They couldn't kill me." You forced out a snicker.

Brian raised his brows in surprise with a small smirk, "I see but didn't they scare you?" Brian seemed like a cool guy but you weren't up to talking about how terrified you were of the men. About how certain sounds made you think that they were closer then they could possibly be.

"Fear? I don't know her." You huffed, braving a smile. You were literally filled with fear every second of the day. "Now," You wanted this conversation to end, you wanted to try your best to forget that you were incredibly traumatized, "Do you need anything else?" You begged him to once again pick up the social cue.

"Not at all, thank you." As soon as he finished speaking, you swung around to throw yourself back into work. Nails digging into the serving tray. Today just wasn't your day.

Locking yourself in the bathroom to have a little cry on your ten minute break is just minimum wage job culture. It was the fact that the knocking or being asked about the worst night of your life made you want to cry. You desperately wanted to call whats-his-name and hear about your stupid little baby boys day.

Standing in the middle of the bathroom, phone to your ear, you waited for him to pick up. While waiting you built up the social courage to ask him to put your dog on the phone if he was with him. 

"Hey! I'm busy right now so just leave a message and I'll get to you when I can." The mans voice lazily informed. Voice mail. You couldn't ask about your sweet idiot, you were disappointed and also a little mad. You swore to God, if he was standing up your absolute angel to slack off. You were going to shove an entire ironing board up his ass.

Your break slipped through your fingers. Crying for five minutes straight, trying to call your dog walker, then getting mad about it for another five minutes really ate up your time. Unlocking the door, through your shirt sleeve as you didn't trust the patrons of 'Hot and Crusty Diner' to wash their hands. You were faced with a very worried Sully.

"Are you okay?" Of course he knew you went to the bathroom to cry. 

You were a stupid bitch but not that stupid, "Not really," You told the truth, "But I don't want to give up on my shift. If I do I'll feel like I'm failing myself." Sully opened his mouth to reassure you, "I know I'm not." You stopped him, "I'll just feel bad. I need to power through today to get to tomorrow and the next day." You didn't finish with a smile, more of a ' _I just cried in the dirtiest bathroom this side of the tristate area_ ' look. Puffy red eyes, shimmering cheeks, hair slightly disheveled from anxiously running your hands through it over and over.

Sully sighed, giving you an uneven but genuine smile,"I'm proud of you. I know it's hard."

He gingerly put a hand on your shoulder, making sure that you saw his hand before touching you. Whenever you were touched without seeing it, you'd jump.

"Thanks, gay ass." The nickname brought a smile to your chapped lips and his.

"Anytime, queen." It was very stereotypically gay of him to call you something like that, but you were a woman and all women are queens. 

"Enough of caring about each other, let's get to work." You mentally readied yourself to deal with customers as best you could.

"You got it!" Sully released your shoulder, you both began walking away from the restroom,"Oh wait, after work I gotta hit up the grocery store so heads up." He looked over his shoulder, talking in his customer service voice. He always switched to the tone scarily fast.

"Oh, cool. I need some more dog food," You really wished that guy picked up the phone to fill you in on your little idiot, "I think my dog walker ate some of my ramen yesterday because I'm almost outta that too."

Sully passed you the flimsy menus, "That's rude."

"I know right." You huffed with a shake of the head. You both went your separate ways to get to work.

Approaching Brian's table with a very fake, very weak, smile, you asked, "Are you finding everything okay?"

"Absolutely!" He looked up from the pancakes, noticing the cheeks you didn't bother to dry off, "Something happen?" He tilted his head dumbly.

You weren't up for more of his questions so you did what any woman would do when faced with a man asking questioned that you don't want to answer,"Oh yeah haha." You internally cringed but it to be done, you didn't want anymore questions from him, "That time of the mouth, ya know?" You pulled out your trump card, say anything even vaguely hinting at periods and men will back off so fucking fast. At a regular diner, that shit wouldn't fly but you worked at 'Hot and Crusty Diner' where the owners didn't give too much of a shit. 

"Oh." He said in disbelief. You internally apologized but you did it for your own sake. You really didn't want him asking about that night any more then he already had and you'd cried enough in the filthy bathroom.

**\----**

"So, how was bandage boy?" You just wanted to gossip, the long shift exhausted you as well as your little breakdown. Feelings could wait, you wanted to shit talk the rat boy.

"He was fine!" Sully chirped, backing the car from the parking lot,"Kinda rude but he didn't pull anything like he did with you yesterday." You idly looked out the car window. Flannel guy and bandage boy exited the diner one after the other,"I think he's just socially awkward. Still kind of mean but eh," Sully was legendary at dealing with rude customers, he had thick skin,"He's probably having an off week." He also gave everyone the benefit of the doubt.

"Off week, my fat ass! Yesterday was straight up evil!" You smiled, Sully's car pulling out of the parking lot. 

"Maybe he's into you?" Sully smirked, "Like in grade school when boys were mean to girls 'cus they like them?" 

"Everyone know's that's a myth built up by misogyny and bullshit!" You looked at him, holding up a finger as you explained.

Sully looked like the cat that just ate the canary, like a smug little shit, "Sure but can you deny that you've been talking him a lot since yesterday?" He'd always been obsessed with the idea of love, falling in it, being in it, seeing it. 

"Because he was an _asshole!"_ You knocked your voice up an octave at the absurd suggestion. 

"Uh-huh," You knew he was just playing with you, "You should wait on him again. Maybe he'll be nicer, maybe you'll get his number."

"That boy looks like he doesn't know what a flip phone is." You joked and decided to change the subject,"So, what'cha need at the store?" You rolled your head to the window, watching cars pass.

"Just some stuff for my Mom." Sully idly responded, switching lanes.

Sully didn't look it but he lived with his Mother. Not because he was a sweaty loser it was because his Moms health was on the decline and couldn't be left alone anymore. They lived in a teeny tiny trailer on the edge of town, it was meant for one person but they somehow made it work. Not very well but it worked. 

"Think I'm going to surprise her tonight! Gonna buy some fun shaped pasta and put tomato sauce on that bad boy." Sully proudly admitted, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. 

"That's sweet of you." The drive wasn't more then two minutes, the supermarket was incredibly close to the diner.

Before you knew it, Sully and you were exiting the car. "You want a cart?" He asked as you both began passing the line of shopping carts kept in a metal barrier.

"Nah, not getting much." You shrugged, a hand idly feeling your pocket for your personal items. Phone, wallet, taser? Check. Thinking back to your phone, you'd never gotten a call back from whats-his-name. If he didn't walk Goober and there was a shit on your floor when you got home you were going to go bonkers, like, absolutely ape shit. 

"Okie Doke." Sully jogged closer to your side, he'd slowed down to ogle at the carts. 

The glass doors, speckled with colorful stickers advertising miscellaneous products, opened as soon as you both came within a few feet. Entering the supermarket, you spoke, "Alright, I'm gonna get my stuff. Meet you here in ten?" You pointed to the floor before the entrance.

"Cya in ten." Sully echoed with a smile. He was off faster then you could respond 

Wordlessly, you made you way deeper into the store. Passing isle after isle, you knew where you were going. Spinning on your heel, you made your way into the isle labeled ' _Pets'._ Both sides of the isle were lined with heavy bags of food, some for cats, some for birds, finally, some for dogs. You searched the shelves a moment, Goober liked a very, specific flavor of dog food. It was dubbed ' _Meaty Delight'_ much to your disdain. You'd endure the weird name for Goober.

Theemployees must have moved things around as it took you some time to find. The familiar bag was on a higher shelf then normal. With a huff, your shoulders fell, you'd possibly embarrass yourself for Goober. 

Standing on your tip-toes, you reached your arm as high as you could above your head. You prepared to jump for it but the bag was dragged from the shelf above. You turned to see who snatched the bag you were very obviously reaching for, ready to give them a piece of your mind. You were met with flannel guy, holding the bag to your face with an easy smile.

"You looked like you were having trouble," Flannel guy lowered the bag into your arms, "It was kind of pathetic so I'd thought I'd help." He said with a dry chuckle. 

Was he just watching you struggle? 

Deciding that he just liked dry humor, you laughed, "Well, thanks for not leaving me hanging," You shifted the bag in your arms holding it in one, "I've gotta run, don't have much time before I gotta get home. Dogs waiting."

_"Should you be running with your leg like that?"_ It was just an innocent question but there was something about the low slow way he said it that had your brain in a tizzy. 

"Excuse me?" You did your best to not appear alarmed, internally reassuring yourself that you were fine.

"You've got a limp don't you?" He tilted his head. More alarm bells. You were just having an off day, flannel guy doesn't want to hurt you.

"Ah, yea," You avoided his gaze, "Surprised you picked up on it. No one's said anything." You wanted to be polite as he was a regular at work but you wanted to get home to Goober as soon as possible.

"My leg got broken real bad once. Walked weird for awhile," So, he could relate, "How'd you break your leg?" He was just curious, his gaze was of concern, not something predatory, even though you thought you saw a malicious glint in his chestnut eyes. Don't be paranoid. You're safe.

"An accident." You flatly replied, not wanting to talk about that night, "I've got to go. Thanks again for your help."

_"See_ you later." You heard him respond after you power-walked passed him. Your grip on the bag tightened, you couldn't wait to get home. 

The isle that held the ramen was only a few isles away, you hobbled into it as fast as you could. Your conversation with the smoker didn't take up too much time but as a gay person Sully fucking power walked everywhere. Meaning he was probably checking out his food and the cashier, if he was a dude.

You passed plastic box after plastic box of ramen, deciding what tonight's dinner would be. Your previous favorite flavor now tasted like bile to you. That night it was the last thing your childhood best friend and acquaintances ate before getting brutally murdered. Sure, you got some on Masky's stupid fucking face but it was a hollow victory, everyone of them was still dead and buried. 

Your lips pulled into an involuntary frown as you stopped the scan the colorful packages. 

"Hard tuh-time deciding?" You jumped with a squeak, muscles tensing and heart pounding. 

You whipped around to face bandage boy. He rolled his shoulders back a few times, face grimacing over and over, probably a tic of his. "Oh, aha." what was with these dudes, didn't they understand the social etiquette of not approaching someone you barley know in public? "Yeah." You dryly responded, you had to get home to Goober and didn't want to keep the ginger waiting. 

"How abuh-about this? I huh-herd it's pretty good." Why was he being so nice? 

Bandage boy reached his arm around your head, leaning a bit too close to you for comfort. The fabric of his black turtle neck brushing against your forehead. He pulled the package from the shelf with an innocent smile, his bandage crinkling on his cheek. It was your old favorite, new least favorite.

You didn't want to appear rude, fearful if you did that the next time you'd wait on him he'd be even worse. You could just have leftovers tonight and give this ramen to Sully. "Oh, yea," You took the box in your free hand,"Thank you."

"Toby." The brunette practically spat out his name to you, his entire demeanor from yesterday had changed. Hard guy to read.

You smiled, at least he wasn't being a fucking gutter rat, "(Y/n) but you already knew that."

"I did." The words shamelessly tumbled from Toby's mouth, sounding a little more sinister then he probably intended. 

"I've gotta go," You repeated yourself, "It was nice to see you again, Toby." You smiled at him, not your 'please give me a fat tip' smile but instead a genuine one. 

"Ssssuh-see you later." Toby waved, wiggling each finger individually. Alarm bells were ringing, but you told yourself it was just his tics and speech pattern. You're just traumatized, your system was hyper-vigilant because of that night.

You turned, power walking from the boy. Once you were home, you could eat your leftovers, share some with Goober, and watch stupid reality TV. You could relax. Let go of the day and just be okay.

Placing your two items on the conveyor belt, you pulled your wallet from your jeans and the cashier scanned your items. "Will that be all, Ma'am?" You recognized the customer service voice from the teen boy. 

"Yea." You fished out a twenty, already seeing the subtotal on the cash register.

"That'll be fifteen thirty." You passed him the cash, over his shoulder you saw Sully leaning on the wall next to the stores exit. You hoped he hadn't been waiting long. "Your change is four seventy. Have a nice day." The boy droned out.

"You too!" You grabbed your two groceries, not bothering to put them in a plastic bag and hauled ass towards Sully. "Hey! Sorry if I kept ya waiting!" You called as you approached.

"You're all good!" He chirped, pushing himself off the wall, "I just got here, wasn't waiting at all." There was a chance that he was lying to make you feel less guilty. He had a habit of doing that.

"Good," You ignored the gut feeling that he was lying, "Lets go!"

Sully spun on his heel and exited the store before you did, looking expectantly at you as you lagged behind a bit. Once you caught up, he turned his gaze to his car.

"Got some ramen, you can have it." You stated as he pulled his jingling keys from his pocket.

"What?" He looked quizzically at you, "Why?"

"Well," You avoided his gaze, embarrassed, "Bandage boy was in the isle with me and was like 'hey try this out, it's good' and I didn't want to be rude," Sully looked very smug,"Also, I didn't want to run risk of him being even more of a gutter rat at me."

Opening your car door for you, Sully began, "He's into you." You placed your goods on the car floor, pulling the door shut, watching the smug Sully round the front of the car. Opening his door, he continued, "Like, _into_ you."

"Wow! I didn't know being the literal worst and then recommending ramen to me means that he's ready to get hitched." You buckled up with a roll of your eyes.

"He just wanted your attention!" Sully laughed, backing the car out of the parking space,"When I was a young lad," Said the barely nineteen year old, "I used to pull stuff like that all the time! It's like a bait and switch!"

You just shook your head, "I'm calling total bullshit, but go off."

Sully just snickered giddily, driving the car out of the parking lot. 

The drive to your apartment was quiet. You both were tired from the long shift, a mutual agreement to keep banter to a minimum. You were watching the concrete scenery pass when Sully spoke, "Is that a cop car?"

You head snapped to the road ahead. Parallel parked in front of your apartment complex was a black and white car, topped with red and blue lights that weren't on. Your brows furrowed as your mouth grew dry. You did your best to stay calm, it was probably just another fistfight over anime. Your apartment complex held a lot of complex people, alright.

"Are you okay?" Sully asked for what felt like the hundredth time.

"Yeah," You nodded,"Just drop me off here, I gotta check up on Goober."

"I can come in if you want." Sully kindly offered.

Shaking your head, you grabbed the ramen and threw it into his backseat, "Thanks but I'll be okay. Tell your Mom I said hi." The second his car pulled up the curb, you swung the door open and threw yourself from the car.

You just had to know that everything was okay. That it was a false alarm or something stupid so your hypersensitive brain could relax for the night. 

Dog food tucked under one arm and shuffling as you jogged to the revolving door. The lobby was practically empty. That was worrying. You felt the need to check every single floor but your tired mind begged you to just go to your apartment. Lips pulled into your mouth, you swayed your weight back and forth, trying to decide. 

Goober was waiting. You made up your mind. 

You pushed the thick metal door to the stairwell open, readying yourself to climb the steep stairs. The added weight of the dog foot made things harder on you. One hand had a death grip on the railing while the other clutched the thick paper bag. You were out of breath at the top of the stairs but you didn't stop to rest. It was Goober time.

The second you pulled open the metal door to the second floor you were met face to chest with a dull blue police uniform. "OH! So sorry!" You gasped out, moving out of his way.

"It's alright," The officer had the thickest handle bar mustache you'd ever seen, "Can I ask you a few questions actually?" Your stomach dropped.

"Of course." It was probably about how one of your neighbors was running a cockfighting ring.

"Do you know a mister James McKenny?" That was whats-his-name's name! Well, James' name.

"Yes, he's my neighbor. Was supposed to walk my dog today." You didn't add a comment about how he probably didn't. "Is everything okay?" Please say yes.

"Mister McKenny was found dead in his apartment a few hours ago." The officer breathed out the news like it was nothing.

"Oh." Was all you could say, your skin was crawling, you wanted to run away. "And?" You didn't mean to sound rude but you wanted confirmation it was an accident or suicide. It made you feel terrible that you hoped it was that over murder. You'd had enough murder in your fucking life.

"We have reason to believe that he was murdered," _Oh fuck,_ "Where have you been today?" 

You understood he was just doing his job but you wish he didn't just say those words to you.

"Ma'am?" A thick finger reached out to tap you on the shoulder.

"Work!" You barked out, you felt like you were going to vomit, "I work at Hot and Crusty Diner across town. You can check what time I clocked in and out," You pushed the words from your mouth, you had to get away from him, "Customers and co-workers can confirm my presence." Your voice was growing weak as your throat tightened.

You couldn't help it. It probably had nothing to do with you but your brain was screaming it was them. They found you and they were angry. That James was a warning. 

The cop just white person smiled at you, "You said he was supposed to walk your dog?" 

"Yeah," God, please fuck off, "He didn't come by this morning so I thought he slept in. Tried calling him on my break, around two o'clock I think?" You clutched the dog food to your chest and pressed it into you. 

The cop dumbly nodded and stepped back from the door. Your body felt heavy, stepping forward felt like walking through wet cement. "That'll be all for now. Miss?"

"(Y/n) (L/n)." You informed, "I live in apartment two B if you ever need to contact me again." You wondered if it was bloody, if you'd be able to smell it through the thin walls.

"Thank you for your time." The blue clad man pushed himself into the stairwell. 

You rushed for your door, refusing to look at James closed door. You nearly dropped the bag of dog food as you fumbled with your keys in your sweaty palm. You could hear Goober barking excitedly at the sound of the key turning in the lock. His excited barks didn't pull your racing mind from the fact that your neighbor had been fucking murdered. 

It had nothing to do with you. 

You wanted to tell yourself that you were fine but you weren't in the slightest. You should just email Maurice. He always had something good to say.

You pushed the door to your apartment open. The smell of Goober's business punched you in the face as you shut and locked the door behind you. You double checked the lock. 

Goobers wet nose prodded your thigh, you turned your pale face to him. It smelled horrible in here. It hit you hard that it wouldn't smell this way if James was still alive. If he was alive he would have walked your dog. You wondered if he was dead in the morning or when you called him. You couldn't stop thinking about who. You didn't want to think about why.

**\----**

_Nobody spoke but there was a silent agreement. The only sound that played through the night was Isaac's pained sobs. He had to die, for the best._

**\----**

You didn't feel like eating. Especially the leftover ramen you believed your now deceased neighbor had just yesterday. You'd hurriedly typed a manic email to Maurice, you hoped he'd get back to you quickly. Sometimes he'd get busy and would get back to you the next day. You crossed your fingers that he would respond. 

You'd cleaned up Goober's mess after dropping the dog food on the floor and falling to your knees. You cried your lungs out, you throat was screaming for you to stop. Goober threw himself into your arms, sometimes licking away your salty tears. Leaning into you when you incoherently blubbered out,"It's them." Or, "Oh fuck, fuck, fuck."

When you peeled your sweaty form from the floor, shaking and still crying, you decided that you were going to text Sully. Maurice wasn't likely to get back to you for sometime and you wanted to know if he'd video call with you while you slept. You'd done it your first few nights home to make you feel safer and you wanted nothing more than to feel safe. 

It was impossible that the three murderous douche bag musketeers had found you. You were in a different state, seven hours away. They were pathetic worms with nothing better to do then kill people, but you didn't want to think that they'd tracked your sorry ass down. 

Through the fear, the gut wrenching fear, there was resentment and anger. Your life was never going to go back to normal after that night on the lonely country road but shit, did they make your life worse. As afraid of them as you were, you reassured yourself if you ever saw them again and couldn't run, you'd bash their fucking brains in.


	10. 9 - Tossing and Turning

Did you look like you just tried to overthrow God, challenging him to fistfight at heavens seven eleven parking lot; lost incredibly hard that God couldn't bring himself to kill you so, he just sent you down to Earth for your own hubris? Yes. Did you care? Only a little. 

The thing about your neighbor and dog walker getting murdered and having trauma relating to people getting murdered is that you don't get a lot of sleep. When you don't get a lot of sleep, you dress in the baggiest grey sweats and a sweater with completely forgotten origins. All you knew it that it had a mostly faded imagine of a smiling clown and you felt more like a clown then the one on your sweater.

You were tired, you felt like shit, and you were not a good mood at fucking all. Having a three hour long panic attack with no real closure isn't very cathartic, so you were just a little grumpy. 

The ride to Hot and Crusty Diner was quiet between you and Sully. You just wanted to focus on the day ahead, hyping yourself up mentally to not yell at a customer.

You were stressed not only because of the drudged up trauma but also because James had a spare key to your place. The police would probably give you the key eventually but for now James apartment was completely closed off from the public. As amoral as it was to go to a dead mans apartment, you anxious brain did consider the idea of breaking in to get your key. You didn't but you really considered it. Also, you were down a dog walker and couldn't find another on such short notice. So you knew you were coming home to pee on your kitchen floor. 

When you first came into his car, Sully insisted that you both just ditch work and go out. A movie or brunch. You told him you just wanted to work on your recovery, as much as work sucked yesterday, you knew hearing those sounds in a normal situation was helping your brain. You were also broke as a joke and couldn't afford a day off. 

Pulling into the parking lot, Sully broke the silence,"Hey, look who it is!" He chirped, trying his best to sound lighthearted. You were looking at your knees the entire ride, so you had to pull your head up to follow his gaze. You saw the three new-ish regulars walking into the diner one after the other. "He's got a really nice ass right?" Of course he'd try to lighten the mood by talking about hot dudes. 

He was talking about flannel guy, who disappeared into the diner last. "Are you serious?" Your voice sounded hoarse, “That man has _the flattest_ ass I've ever fucking seen." You spat the words yet yet you were smiling. Just mental breakdown things.

Sully snorted, opening his door, “Okay, yeah. I was kiddin', he has a _pancake_ ass." You let out a soft wheeze while opening yours.

"Thank God," You shut the car door with a ' _thunk', "_ I was starting to think Corydon's ass connoisseur was going blind." It was a joke but it came out more like a jab. "Sorry, didn't me-"

"I get what ya mean," Sully walked ahead of you,"Know you're jokin' and you're just sleepy." He pulled open the diner door. "Ready?" He looked to you with a softly expectant gaze.

"Not at all but if I don't go to work I think I'll go nuts." You walked through the door, Sully swinging into the building behind you. 

"Hey Sully. Hey (Y/n)," Emile looked past his emo fringe to take in your appearance,"Oh wow. You look awful." He scrunched his nose in either disgust or concern for why you looked the way you did. 

"I know," You deadpanned, Emile wasn't the best with people or social cues,"Clock me in, will ya?" You approached the counter to grab your apron.

"Kay." You passed Emile as he shifted, writing your name and the current time, ten thirty-two, in the notebook. You grabbed an apron and notepad, an extra for Sully as well.

"Here." You pushed the apron and notepad over the counter towards the ginger.

"Thank," He began throwing his apron on, "You." Tying the aprons knot expertly behind his back, he looked to you,"You sure you're good?"

"I've never been better." Your eyelids were heavy, almost as heavy as the weight of your survivors guilt.

Sully didn't look convinced at all,"Alright, I can take care of some of your tables if you need me to though." He grabbed flimsy menus with a sigh.

"Thanks for the offer." You'd think about taking him up on it. For now though, it was time to get to work. 

"(Y/n)," Emile called to you as you gathered a stack of menus,"Doug's here. He won't let anyone take his order, keeps telling us he's waiting for you," Emile sounded as bored as he sounded annoyed, "Take care of him." 

That perked you up, not much, but it was good news. In your first two days back, you'd been so concerned with your mental state, understandably, that you forgot that about Crackhead Doug. His words and mannerisms were not that of a normal person but you thought that after the shit day yesterday, he'd be refreshing. 

Was Doug a morally questionable possible drug pusher with a penchant for wearing the worst and best outfits you'd ever seen? Yes. Was he your favorite regular? Also, yes. 

You didn't have to scan the tops of the diners patrons heads for long as your eyes almost immediately landed on his bleached blonde hair. You could make out an eye bleeding green collar to a probably nylon jacket. He really fucking loved wearing nylon clothing. You didn't question it, like many other things about him.

You padded your way over to him, a genuine smile on your tired face,"Hey there Doug," He snapped his head to you, his white lipstick partially smeared across his left cheek,"Long time, no see." You could see his hairy legs, he was wearing red short-shorts. You knew from experience that they said,' _Ceaseless watcher turn your gaze upon this wretched thing'_ on the ass. You had absolutely no idea what that meant and you did not care.

"(Y/n)! You sunnavabitch!" Doug smacked his heavily ringed fingers on the tabletop, "Glad yer okay," He didn't wait for your response,"How the H-E double fuck have ya been?"

"Tired Doug, tired," You sighed, shoulders slacking down. Talking to Doug was like talking to a sponge. He just absorbs everything you say without question. If you squeezed him he'd probably leak too. Literally that is, one time you squeezed his wrist too hard and bad things happened.

"Ya been through a lot. So!" Doug ignored your words, that's just how he was," How would you like a comprehensive list of people I'd let spit in my mouth, to make ya feel better?" Being upset around Doug is hard, at first you want to be scared of his mannerisms and fashion but he's a good guy. If anyone was upset he'd grace them with his immaculate presence. 

You weren't even phased. Doug was a regular, your regular, he'd often wait for you to come into work before letting anyone serve him. You could never tell if he just liked to confuse people and was eccentric or if he legitimately was just like that. 

"I'm good for now, Doug," You kinda wanted to know but if you let him ramble your other customers would get mad,"You want your usual?" You brought up the notepad.

"Yes Ma'am!" Doug leaned forward over his table, looking past you. He spoke in an uncharacteristically normal tone,"I think that guys staring at you, looks like a young lesbian but like a guy." Flannel guy?

You went to turn to check but Doug's hand shot and snatched your wrist. You jumped and looked back to the man, you were still wary of touch, "Doug?"

He didn't say anything, he just fished out a palm sized black rectangle from his green jacket. With a ' _pop_ ' he opened it, it was a mini eye shadow palette. You didn't question it. Setting it on the table, turning it towards you and pushing it slightly to your side. The dusty mirror showed a blurry picture of the diner behind you. You could make out flannel guy staring right in your direction.

"He's been staring at you since you came in," Doug half-whispered half-lectured, you weren't used to this side of him,"I know that kinda look and it is nothing good," Doug leaned towards you, "Watch yourself." With that, he quickly slapped the palette shut, dragged it across the table and shoved it into his pocket. "Can I get a bendy straw with my drink?"

Cryptic as always.

"Course Doug, thanks for the heads up." You smiled weakly at him. You didn't know what to do with the information. You think you could trust Doug but then again, the entire town literally called him crackhead Doug. He'd never done you any wrong or harm or showed any intention of wanting to do so.

Maybe flannel guy was spacing out in your direction or maybe he just wanted you to get to his table already. You wanted to brush it off as something completely normal but yesterday, your neighbor was murdered. So, your brain was screaming at you that it was dangerous, that he was one of those masked men coming to kill you again. All you knew for sure is the little interaction didn't bring up your mood like you thought it would. You just felt more paranoid.

You did your best to not start hyperventilating as you used your well rehearsed lines on a family of four. As you scribbled down their orders, you wondered if flannel guys eyes were drilling holes into the back of your head. With a smile, you turned from the family to the kitchen to start on all of theirs' and Doug's drinks. 

You made almost immediate eye contact with Toby as you turned towards the kitchen. He smiled, waving, fingers curling into his hand one by one, before cracking his wrist. The simple action made your stomach lurch. You gave him a strained smile, you couldn't just ignore him after making eye contact. You put up a finger, telling him to give you a moment, and hurriedly he gave you a thumbs up with a cheeky grin, his bandage crinkling against his upturned mouth. You smiled to yourself, yes he was probably the most annoying customer you'd ever had but he was cute. You almost immediately took back that observation as his neck painfully ticked. He was cute, but no cute boy could erase the trauma of that night. 

You pushed the door open to the sauna that was the kitchen, grabbing a tray on the way to your humble drink station. You grabbed two cups of coffee, an orange juice and a water for the family of four. You imagined the two young parents would be needing a few more cups of coffee as even from the kitchen you could hear their two children screeching. You started another batch and walked a little bit farther into the kitchen to get Doug's regular 'drink', if you could even call it that. 

You opened up one of the diner's double door fridges, grabbing a single egg. Returning to your station, the smell of fresh coffee in the air, you grabbed a short glass and cracked the egg into it. You grimaced at the egg sitting in a cup pretending to be a drink, grabbing a bendy straw as Doug requested. You set the drinks onto the tray, Doug's impostor among them. You hoisted the tray up and pushed your way out of the loud and hot kitchen.

Toby watched you come out to your dismay, a smile still on his face, almost like he was scheming. You decided to grab his order really quick since he was so determined to get your attention. You passed April while making your way to the him, “Good to see you again." You mumbled the words out, three hours of sleep slowly catching up to you, realizing how tired and strained your voice was, your arm holding the tray aching distantly. Today was going to be a long day.

"How wah-was your dinner?" Toby tilted his head, curly hair shifting softly across his forehead. 

You gave the ramen to Sully, the flavor made you want to vomit. You didn't eat last night either. "Good, thank you for the recommendation." You slid him a menu from your apron pocket, “Can I start you with something to drink?" Your head felt like it was heavier then usual, your neck felt useless, you felt like a bobble head.

Toby hummed, rolled his shoulders back and spun his head back. You just dully stared at him, waiting for him to order already. As he pondered, the inactivity of your brain and body just made you sleepier. You couldn't fight the exhaustion, you just dumbly stared at the boy as your eyelids grew heavier.

**_CRASH!_ **

Your tray with six drinks falling from your hand with a deafening clatter, it fell onto the table, a cup of coffee spilling down Toby's front and the rest falling noisily against the wooden table.

"-cuse me?" Toby's words mixed with the cacophonous sound of your full tray falling snapped you out of your trance. "What the huh-hell was that for!?" He jerked his head to the side, grimacing as his eyes rapidly opened and shut.

"Oh," You slurred out, mind fuzzy, "I'm so sorry. Are you okay, Toby?" 

You began grabbing cups, preventing a little more than half of the orange juice from spilling on his table, the water was a lost cause, the pile of napkins next to the salt and pepper soaking it up greedily.

"Did you do tha-that on purpose? " He did a full one-eighty, now screaming in your face wildly, "Are you truh-trying to make me mmmmmuh-mad?" You'd known this kid three days and he'd only been mischievous and weirdly sweet to you, the sudden violent anger was out of left field. It sent a shudder down your already shaking frame.

"I wasn't trying to-" You began to gasp out an explanation.

"So you admit it!" Toby slammed his gloved fists on the table, people began to stare,"What's your fuh-fucking puh-problem? Huh?" His fingers flexed at odd angles.

"Sir," You put on your best 'this is fine' voice, "I obviously didn't mean to drop the tray on you," You were glad he let you continue, "I just didn't get much sleep last night." You hoped the explanation would put the unreadable boy at ease. 

"You thuh-think I'm stupid huh? Think I'd fall for that-at?" Toby jerked his head violently to the side, eyelids irregularly twitching.

"Sir please," You tried to keep desperation from your tone, desperation for peace was like blood in the water for angry customers, "I don't think anything of the sort." You readied yourself to play your service worker trump card, an offer for free food.

_"I'd like to ssssuh-speak to your manager."_ Toby leaned forward as he spat the words towards you. Eyes crinkling in disgust or delight, your tired brain couldn't tell, all you knew was that there was a tint of mischief under his anger.

Are you fucking serious right now? Weren't young people supposed to be more empathetic towards minimum wage workers? Wasn't that only a soccer mom thing? He didn't even look hurt or phased by the coffee soaked into his shirt, he seemed to think you were attacking him on purpose. 

You opened and shut your mouth over and over again, stunned. You couldn't deny him though, with a heavy heart you informed him, "The manager isn't here right now." You didn't even need to check, Jackson was never where he was supposed to be. He was probably hot-boxing his car in a Denny's parking lot right now. "Would you like his number to," You had to hold in a sigh “File an official complaint?"

The diners silence told you everything you needed to know, people were watching the show. It wasn't everyday someone whipped out the _'Can I speak to the manager?'_ question.

"I don't hah-have one." Toby huffed out, slamming the now empty coffee mug onto the table loudly. You were glad he was either too dumb to notice there was no way you could be one-hundred percent sure your manager wasn't in or just didn't care. 

"Would you like to leave a note?" Near the cash register was the 'complaint box'. Since Jackson was never in and rarely picked up his phone, you and your co-workers set up the box. You honestly didn't know how Jackson still had his job or how the diner ran with a completely dysfunctional manager but it did anyway. The 'complaint box' was a complete in-joke for the staff of Hot and Crusty Diner. On the third Sunday of every month, as many of you as possible would stay after hours, get tipsy, and read the complaints dramatically as possible. No one ever forwarded them to the owners, not that they'd even give a shit or even read them.

Toby rolled his shoulders back, seemingly contemplating. Either way, this kid confused you. Day one, he fucks with you for laughs, day two, he tries to be nice, day three, screams for your manager. Maybe he was on drugs, maybe mentally ill, maybe just as asshole by nature, probably all three. 

"Sssh-sure." He grumbled.

You turned to grab one of the little yellow strips of paper from the complaint box, grabbing him a towel and some napkins for him as well. Emile gave you a sympathetic look but you knew he was intently watching the drama unfold. Next to the orange box in a Dixie cup was a handful of writing utensils. Short pencils, out of ink pens, and a single black crayon. Knowing how much a bitch it'd be to write a coherent message on a tiny piece of paper with a shitty and thick writing instrument, made you grab the crayon. 

Almost all eyes were on you, your marched over to Toby's table, slapping the crayon and paper before him. "Here," You shot a thumb over your shoulder to the orange box, "Put it in there when you're done." You weren't going to take this little asshole's order. You dropped the towel and napkins next to his crayon, still very much shaken from the whole thing. 

Turning your back to the, you assumed, teenager, you huffed angrily and began to work your rounds again. Doing your best not to look like you were so fucking humiliated. As you approached a booth with the back of a familiar head, conversations began to resume. 

"Hello, I'm (Y/n)." You skidded to a stop before Brian's booth, dreading the awkward conversation coming up. Yesterday, you lied about having your period to get him to shut up, a bit awkward. 

"Hey there," Brian looked amused, guess he watched the show, "Hot and crusty waitress." He continued grinning, you hoped that wasn't what he called you in his head. 

Before he could continue whatever he was going to say, you asked, "Same as always?" Always being the last two days. You really didn't want to have a playful conversation right about now, you were tired and a bit peeved.

"Course," He rested a hand on the booth behind him, "You look tired, are you sleeping alright?" He leaned towards you, feigning interest. That didn't catch you as of guard as Toby's one-eighty but it was still an unnerving question due to your circumstances. You weren't very used to customers caring about your well being or even noticing when you were going through a rough patch.

"Oh yeah," You forced out a positive note, you couldn't just going pouring your heart to a guy you'd known three days,"Slept like a baby. I slept so good in fact that I haven't felt this energized in years." You lied to him but it was like an in-joke to your traumatized self. You hadn't felt this sleepy since before you passed out in the back of that pickup. 

Brian hummed idly, "Good, glad you're takin' care of yourself." You had a feeling that he caught onto the way your voice rose an octave, the deep bags under your eyes. You were glad he was polite enough to not call bullshit.

"I'll have your order right out for you." You mumbled, writing the order onto the long list.

**\----**

You didn't want to go home but you also desperately wanted to lay down for hours and not move. You wanted to pirate movies on your laptop, pet Goober, and completely veg out. James' death weighed heavy on your mind as Sully drove you home. You just kept chanting in your head that it was a personal vendetta. Most murders are done by someone the victim already knows. It was just horribly bad luck for him and you. It made you feel less safe in your own home. 

"I literally fucking knew it," You didn't but it felt good to say anyway, "That fucking toe-sucker hates me for some reason!" You loudly shit-talked the brunette on your way home. It was the only thing besides knowing Goober was patiently waiting for you at home, that made you feel somewhat okay.

Sully had his lips pulled into his mouth, trying and failing to hold back his laughter. His body shook as he let out short breathy laughs from his nose. You knew he wasn't a fan of when people were genuinely angry, he got skittish whenever someone was actually mad. Your anger was most likely alarming to the ginger, so you did your best to spin it in a way that wasn't _'I wanna taze the shit out of that kid.'_ You didn't want to talk violence and you knew he shied away from the subject as well. 

"I can heeeeaaaar the wedding bells." Sully cackled as your apartment approached. You both knew he was joking. He didn't hold the same vicious vendetta that you did, but you knew that he held a distaste for Toby now that he seemed to be deliberately targeting you for harassment. 

Pulling up before the sidewalk of your home, Sully looked to you, dimples intending into his cheeks, "Don't keep yourself up all night thinkin' of him," He joked before switching his tone, "Seriously, get some rest. You deserve it." You really did. 

You slumped your shoulders downward with a sigh from your nostrils, "I will, I will." You swung the car door open, "Thanks as always for dealing with my bullshit." 

"I'm not _dealing_ with you. I'm your friend! That's what friends are for!" Sully insisted,"I'll cya later, kay?"

"Check ya later." You shut the door and gave him a weak wave. Turning, you faced the concrete building that towered above you. It was finally time to get some rest and relaxation.

You expected the foul scent of dog shit to hit nose when you walked into your apartment. There was none. It just smelled faintly of mothballs like it always did. You were on shift for six hours, did Goober wait for you to walk him? No. He wasn't that smart and didn't that control over his urges, was just a baby.

"Goob?" You called to the mutt, shutting the door and locking the door behind you.

The shuffle of his paws on your carpeted floor alerted you of his presence. He exited your bed room, tail wagging. He slept in there on occasion but usually only when you were sleeping. A little odd but nothing too out of the ordinary.

"Hey baby!" You slapped the tops of your thighs, keys jingling in your hand. "How are you?!" Your voice shot up a few octaves as Goober came closer.

He jumped onto his hind legs, you took his front paws in your hands, "Thank you handsome man!" No matter what kind of day you'd had, Goober could fix it. You hadn't had him long but he became a staple in your life, something to ground you when your mind got away from you.

Taking a few playful steps forward, shaking his paws up and down in your hands, something caught your eye on the fridge. "What's that?" You thought aloud, gently letting Goobers paws down. On your fridge there was a little yellow strip of paper hung up by a magnet that read out the local pizza places delivery number and website. There was a smiley face drawn in black ink on it. "What the fuck?" Your words were abrasive but your brain was freaking out. 

You did your best to rationalize the note. You didn't eat yesterday night, maybe James left it before he died? Not possible. You ate an off brand cereal with milk that morning, you opened the fridge. The note was at eye level, it's blinding yellow hue would have been apparent the second you saw it. There was no note on the door. Maybe it was a cop who dropped off your spare key and was being weird about it? You scanned your kitchen counter top, there was no key in sight. What if it was them? What if they had come back for you?

You wanted to get out of your apartment, it felt like the walls were closing in on you. Your breaths grew short and your hands flew up to your face, shaking and clammy.

_No, it couldn't be them. That's not possible. It's just not._

Goobers nose prodded your thigh and you jumped. Quickly recovering from the initial scare of his touch, you let out a shaky breath. He didn't nuzzle into you like you were used to. He sprung around, tail wagging and bounded away and into the hall. Dumbfounded by this new behavior, you followed the dog, mouth mindlessly hanging open.

As soon as you entered your hall, you saw his wagging tail disappear into your bedroom. A looming sense of doom is a odd way of saying 'I think I'm going to fucking die if I go into that room' but that was the best way you could label the instant primal fear and dread you felt as you followed your dog into your bedroom. There was something deeply wrong here. You didn't want to know what. However, you knew if you left whatever it was that caught Goober's attention unattended the fear of the unknown would nag at you.

At first, there was noting obviously wrong. It was your cramped room and Goober. You clutched the door frame for dear life looking for something that could be labeled as wrong. You looked to your bed and your heart stopped. Under your pillow, something thin stuck out. Your stomach churned, your palms sweat. It was probably some homework from class you'd left. Don't be so paranoid, you told yourself, nervously and numbly padding towards it. 

Goober moved out of your way as you cautiously approached the bed. Carefully reaching out your hand, your breath got caught in your throat. Please be a failed quiz. You tore the pillow away, throwing it to the end of the bed. Unsurprisingly, it was not.

The black and white photos that Dan brought to the cabin lay on your bed sheets, Isaac's shattered skull looking up at you as you struggled to breathe. Smeared yet dried bloody fingerprints were on the edges, crumpled slightly where they had been held, hot wet tears from your eyes falling on to them now. You immediately doubled over, the stone in your stomach turning to a boulder. Who knew it could hurt to be so afraid. 

It was them. It had to be. No one else on the fucking planet would do this to you but them. They'd been in your home, in your room. They left you something that told you they found you and they wanted to play. That night wasn't enough for them. Maybe they were mad about what you did to them or maybe they wanted no survivors. Maybe all of this had to do with Isaac and they were holding it above your head and planning to slowly torture you.

They had waited. They probably could have killed you in Tuscaloosa's hospital but you didn't catch a glance of any of them, you were looking the whole time. They either waited for you to recover to have as much 'fun' with you as possible or it genuinely took them awhile to find you. 

Either way, you are _FUCKED._

That is, if you played by the rules that think you'll play by. 

With a shocking sense of clarity, or blind stupidity, your mind worked away at a solution. You still were hyperventilating and letting out loud sobs but you knew that you didn't have time to curl into a ball. 

The situation before the slaughter was if the evidence of Isaac's death got out, you and everyone else would go down. Everyone else was dead. You didn't turn in yourself in because you believed you earned your right to live a normal life. If they were here, they were going to kill you.

_You'd like to see them try when you throw your fat ass in jail._

Turn yourself in and probably get life in prison or die horribly. Easy choice. You could get used to prison life, maybe have a cute prison wife. You didn't want to leave what life you'd built behind but you wanted to live more. 

You rushed into the kitchen, tearing the pantry open and ripping Goobers dog food from the shelf. You were going to give him extra food for the night. You'd use your phone call to call Sully. Sully could find Goober a home and as upsetting as it was, forget about you. As you poured out as much food as the plastic bowl could hold, you thought about how messed up Sully would be about your arrest. You killed a teenage boy and acted like you were normal. You wondered if after he finds out about you if he'll develop some trust issues. You hoped so, you were a snake in the grass. He was too nice for his own good.

Pulling the bag up, you checked his water bowl, full. It was usually completely empty or spilled on the floor this time of day. Did they give Goober water? Sweet but you still felt violated, you felt unsafe and unsure of what else in your home they had touched. 

You slapped the bag of food onto the table. "Goob!" The mutt excitedly scampered over, knowing that his dinner was ready for him. You knelt before the bowls, watching him skid to a stop. "Hey," You softly began, still crying, "I'm gonna miss you buddy." You wrapped your arms around him, "But I gotta go away for my own good," You sobbed into his soft fur, "Mama loves you, okay? Uncle Sully is going to find you a good home." He had no idea what you were saying, he just grumbled and melted into your hold. He was such a good boy you thought with a sob. 

You wanted to stay there, face in his fur for hours but you knew you couldn't. You had to leave, turn your ass in, and live a boring and shitty life. You weren't exactly looking forward to it but you knew you'd find joy in there somewhere. Always a silver lining. You'd take that over getting your ass beat and chest torn open. 

Releasing Goober, you rose to your feet. With one final look over your apartment, you opened the door, gazing longingly at the dog who threw his face into his food bowl. "Be good." The finality to those words felt like a brick to the skull, not good.

You shut the door, leaving it unlocked for Sully. You used your body weight to push the metal door to the stairway open, it felt odd to know that this was going to be the last time you ever saw the wretched stairs. You didn't have time to doddle and be wistful over the cold concrete. You threw yourself down the stairs, footsteps echoing off the walls, making sure to look over your shoulder. There was no one behind you but you felt like you had to run. They could be anywhere, you'd known it this whole time but now it was hanging over your head like an incoming storm.

You burst into the lobby and made a beeline for the front door, passing your upstairs neighbor. Never liked her much, she had a habit of vacuuming at three in the morning on Wednesdays. You were still going to miss being woken up by it though. 

It was cool outside. You realized that you'd rushed outside and didn't have a way to get to the police station. You pulled your phone from your pocket and readied your fingers to dial Sully's number. Then it hit you that he totally wouldn't take you to the police station. He'd think you were having a manic episode and being delusional. His brain wouldn't be able to wrap around the truth unless it was proven in court. He trusted you that much. There was also a hope that if you didn't call him, the men wouldn't know he even existed. You hoped they didn't know about him, that Sully would be safe after all of this. 

You'd have to walk. You couldn't just call the station saying, "Hello. I'd like to be arrested, please."

Closing the phone app, you switched to Google maps. You weren't exactly familiar with the location of the police station. Never thought you'd have to be. Your thumbs worked away, misspelling Corydon a couple of times. You muted your phone, too embarrassed and paranoid to let it read out the directions to the police station aloud. It was only a mile away. 

Turning to your right, you began to tread down the sidewalk. A small breeze blowing past. It'd be refreshing if you weren't power-walking your way to a jail cell. 

You sharply rounded the corner of your apartment building, not looking up from your phone. Colliding with something hard, you gasped, nearly dropping your phone. You screwed your eyes shut and readied yourself to fall on your behind but the ground never came. 

Cracking one eye open at a time, you were faced with flannel guy. "Oh, uh." He had a hand on either of your shoulders, "Thanks." You steadied yourself and waited for him to let go. His eye brows were knitted together with concern, and at this distance you could smell the rancid stench of of cigarette smoke. You could see slight short stubble on his chin as he questioned you.

"Where are headed," Flannel guy let go after intently staring at you for what was way too long, "At this time of night?" He added onto the question a bit too late, making it sound awkward.

You rubbed the back of your neck with your free hand, "Just taking a walk." You were not going to tell this stranger that you were about to turn yourself in. 

Flannel guy looked mildly amused and moved back a bit so he was at a more socially acceptable range to talk to you. He was still way too close for a stranger to be though, you didn't even know his name.

"Mind if I join you?" Flannel guy asked innocently but you really wish he hadn't said it that way. You of course were going to try to worm your way out of the situation. Him being nice about it just made you feel bad for saying no. "Tim, by the way." He added as you conjured up the best lie you could, his hand reaching out to you expectantly.

"Sorry," You did your best sound convincing, purposely ignoring his out stretched hand, "I just got out of a bad relationship and need some time alone to clear my head." You twitched your mouth into a pout. On the inside, you were cringing. "It's uh," You couldn't look at him it was too embarrassing, "Nice to formally meet you Tim. Sorry about the circumstances." 

"Oh," Tim sounded surprised, shoving his hand back into his pocket,"Well," He clicked his tongue, "I get it." You looked back to him, his eyes seemed to bore holes into your head, intense and unwavering. "Hope ya feel better," Tim moved around you as if to walk passed you, his breath shifting your hair as he walked by, "I'll be seeing you later." He gave you a stiff smile, reminiscent of your customer service smile but there was something else to it. It was probably just the paranoia but you didn't like the glint in his sharp eyes.

"Cya." You lazily waved over your shoulder with your free hand. You looked back to you phone, your next turn being in five-hundred feet. You got to walking. You didn't look back, you would probably never see that man again.

The police station was stuffy. A woman sat behind a wall of glass separating her office from the lobby you stood in. You approached, here goes nothing.

"Excuse me." You didn't knock on the glass, "I'm here to turn myself in." 

The woman who was looking idly at her computer turned her gaze to you. Glasses shifting down on her nose as her eyes looked above them, "Excuse me?" 

"I killed someone four years ago and buried part of his body," You did your best to deadpan but your voice was cracking, "I can tell you where his torso is." You continued as the woman rose her brows and pushed a button, probably calling for an officer. The crazier you looked the better, you noted, looking down to your clown sweater knowing that your face was tear streaked and red, your hair windswept and messy.

She was quiet, jaw hanging open. "Should I take a seat while I wait for someone to arrest me, or?" You looked back at the uncomfortable looking leather chairs.

"You do know how serious of a charge that is, right?" Her nasally voice was like a female Michael's, "Confessing to a crime you didn't commit is also incredibly serious." She shifted in her chair. 

"Oh," She thought you were on drugs on something, great, maybe you looked too crazy, "I crushed his skull with a rock. He begged me to stop and I didn't," You gestured the motion of holding the rock above your head and slamming it down, "So, please arrest me now."

You heard a door being swung open, the same officer you'd talked to the night before approached you. "Did you come to tell us more about McKennth's case?" All work, no pleasantries. 

"I don't know anything about that. I'm turning myself in." You shrugged, swinging your hands idly by your side.

"What?" You couldn't see his upper lip through his mustache but from the curve of his bottom lip, you could tell he was frowning, his bushy eyebrows meeting in the middle of his forehead in confusion.

"I killed this kid named Isaac in Tuscaloosa, like, four years ago," The words were casual but on the inside your guts were churning, "Forgot his last name but he went missing," The officer came closer, "Should be easy to find his case." 

"Are you on any drugs, ma'am?" The police here are almost as incompetent as they were in Tuscaloosa, huh? 

"No sir," You sighed, you were kind of on the run for your life, you wanted to be locked safely behind bars as quickly as possible,"You can take a urine sample to test if that'll make you feel better." This morning you didn't see yourself offering to pee into a little plastic cup, but you were just rolling with the punches at this point.

He just stared at you with his beady eyes, his stare somehow, was nowhere near intense as Tim's. If looks could give heart attacks that guy would have killed you days ago. "Those are very serious allegations ma'am. You're aware that lying about this could get you in big trouble?" 

"Yes." You were so done with this, "You could call the Tuscaloosa police department," You felt the need to explain his job to him as he didn't seem to know what the fuck he was doing, "Ask them about the bones they found awhile ago. You can then tell them the location of the bones that I know of because I buried them." You spoke slowly, over producing every syllable, "A week after I killed Isaac, I buried his torso behind the Walmart on West Street. In the little forest, it should be next to a big mossy boulder," You gestured how big the rock was,"The forest is really small, it shouldn't be hard to miss." You finished, hands together.

"Ma'am," The officer shifted his weight onto his left leg, looking idly down at you, "This isn't a hotel," He tutted,"If you want to spend the night somewhere there is a homeless shelter down the road."

This fucking guy. "I am literally confessing to murder right now," You exclaimed in disbelief, "Isn't this what police want? For criminals to come clean? Because here I am," You took a step forward and jetted your arms towards him, "Cuff me! I literally committed murder." You shook your arms a bit in emphasis.

"Did you really?" He looked down the bridge of his nose towards your clothed wrists.

"Yes! How many times do I need to tell you!?" You barked at him. He was getting more punchable by the second. "Please, put me in a holding cell while you call the Tuscaloosa police. Seriously!" You anxiously looked out the window of the police station. The sun was setting, the streets and sidewalks illuminated by storefront lights. You weren't going to disregard your senses, your eyes weren't playing tricks on you. There was someone leaning on the front of a pizza place across the street. You couldn't see anything other then their silhouette but it sent shivers down your spine. You needed to be in a cell _now._

 _"Look lady,_ " The officer bent his knees to be exactly eye level with you, "I get your type all the time," He spat through his mustache, "I know you think prison will be a good place to stay but it's not. Everyone's heartless there," even more punchable, "Go to whatever homeless shelter or to family. I'm sure they miss you and want to work everything out." This was literally the stupidest, densest, motherfucker you'd ever met.

You were going to get arrested, whether he liked it or not. You are not going to get crazy murdered tonight. 

You pulled your hands back from him, "I thought so." He sneered and stood back to full height. Before he could, you curled your dominant hand into a fist and forced it into his cheek. "Oof!" He grunted out, head knocking to the side. You knew it probably hurt the guy but you knew that would get you arrested.

"Cuffs now!" You held your hands out to the man who'd just recovered from the sucker punch and looked pissed. You were tempted to add a please in order to not get man-handled. However, you'd rather get man handled a bit over saying please to this thick skulled pea-brain. 

The officer snatched his cuffs from his belt, nostrils flaring angrily, "You're in _big_ trouble." He harshly slapped the cuffs on your wrists, fastening them way too tight.

"As I should be!" You were already getting arrested, might as well let yourself go for a moment and take your anger out on someone who deserved it, "I fucking killed someone." The man grabbed you by the shoulder and began ushering you towards the door he entered from.

He pushed you into the cold hallway, you stumbled with the force. So, he gets mad at a hardly painful sucker punch but not a murder confession? Weird guy. It didn't matter who he was as a person anymore. He just saved your ass from getting murdered tonight. 

You were shoved into the first holding cell you both came across. Not before he took your few personal possessions from your sweatpants pockets. Your phone, keys, wallet, and tazer. You kinda wished you tazed him but being a cop he probably would have shot you. "Remember to call the Tuscaloosa police department and tell them where the bones are!" You reminded, pressing yourself into the cold white bars.

The officer just let out a, "Tch." Turned on the heel of his polished shoe and marched down the hallway, turning a corner and disappearing from your view. 

You stood, partially leaning on the bars idly watching the empty hall. It totally sucked that you didn't have your phone to entertain yourself through the night. You let yourself slide down the bars and sit on the floor. Your thoughts of dread and sorrow would keep you busy. Not happy or content, but busy!

You hoped the man took you seriously and actually called the Tuscaloosa police. If he didn't you'd be so mad you'd probably throw up. You'd also be incredibly amazed. Though, you did just punch him square in the face. A weak punch still had to count as battery against an officer! That was illegal, landed you in a holding cell. If he didn't call the Tuscaloosa police you could probably convince another officer to do it. Not every motherfucker in this building has to be completely brain dead. 

You hoped Sully would forgive you for your deceit. You hoped your family would still love you. You hoped Doug would visit you in prison and bring some light into your life. You hoped Goober would live a long happy dog life.

Your exhaustion caught up with you, the adrenaline from the night wearing off. Your eyelids grew heavy and your head slumped forward. You let the warm darkness of sleep take you away. You were safe. Your family and friends and dog were safe. You were going to be alright even if you were in prison for the rest of your life, and you drifted into a dreamless sleep.


	11. 10 - Circus Act

_You couldn't see them but you knew they were close. No direction was safe as the sounds of their incoming footsteps boomed from every which way. You were just running blindly into nothingness and they were chasing you in a way that made you think you had no escape but at the same time gave you hope._

_What if they messed up? What if I'm faster? Smarter?_

_You'd ask yourself as you moved. You had to have some sort of advantage. You got so many the last time you encountered them. There had to be a plan somewhere in the confines of your mind. There had to be something._

_You felt a hand on your shoulder. It was big and felt like it weighed your shoulder down. You could really feel it. Not just the thinking that you feel it, you felt it._

_**"Hey kid. Get up and get out."**_

Your eyes snapped open. The first thing you felt besides the large hand on your shoulder was how your ass felt fuzzy. It was asleep. The other parts of your body felt stiff and achy. 

"What?" You grumbled the word out, looking up the officer that had so kindly thrown you in the jail cell.

"I said, get out." He removed his hand from your shoulder, dusting it off on the pants of his uniform. You didn't smell that bad or look that dirty and you knew it. Asshole.

Sleep still clung to your brain, thoughts not fully letting themselves develop before letting themselves out of your mouth, "Sir, are we going to a super max prison? Because I think I belong in prison but not a super max." 

"No,"The man huffed, "You're leaving." 

That woke your brain up real quick, "What?!" You began to push yourself from the floor, legs aching in disagreement and ass feeling like it was static on an old TV.

"I called the Tuscaloosa sheriff's department," He leaned away from you as you stood, "I told them about you supposed bones," He took a step back and swung the cells door open, "They really thought it was a break in the case, you know?" You just looked at him, not wanting to believe what he was saying as he continued, "They looked exactly where I told 'em to," He brought his face inches from yours, you could see his five o'clock shadow," _Nothing."_

"Then they looked in the wrong place!" You insisted. The police in Tuscaloosa were always incompetent but not follow incredibly specific directions and find some bones like a dog, incompetent. 

"They looked around that whole God damn forest all night," He swung the cell door open even wider,"There was nothing," He laughed,"You had me going for a second there. I thought that an honest to God criminal had turned themselves in but no," He sneered beneath his mustache, "There's not that much good in the world. You're just some runaway druggie teen mom." 

You couldn't believe what he was saying,"I'm not a teenager! I'm twenty years old!" You didn't budge from your spot,"I literally killed a man, holy shit." The officer took his face away from your and stepped out of the cell,"Seriously! I did it!" This had to be some sort of fucked up prank that he gets his rocks off by doing,"Tell them to check again!"

He straightened his lips into an annoyed line,"No can do. They were up all night serchin' those woods, kid." He spat the word out condescendingly,"You're just a liar, better then others I've seen but a liar nonetheless." He tapped his foot on the cold concrete floor,"Now," He growled,"Get out.

"But I hit you!" You moved to stand in front of him yet not fully out of the cell. You could do it again if you had to.

"I'm letting it slide. I know you're just some confused kid," He knew you were very much not a child,"So I'm being generous enough to let it go." He saw the way your fingers twitched into angry fists, "Don't even try it," The hissed quietly through ground teeth, "I wont give you the satisfaction of another good nights sleep." He genuinely thought you were doing this for only that. "I will however, beat your ass into next week and throw you out into the streets." You'd seen cops on the news do way worse for way less. "Now," His voice returned to the annoyed deadpan that he'd used earlier,"Get out."

You didn't need him to tell you twice. You awkwardly shuffled past the man, one wrist being held by the opposite arms hand in an act of self comfort. You didn't want to talk back, not because of the possible trouble it'd get you in, you wanted trouble just not the physical kind. Your mind was cloudy with sleep, stiff muscles, and the fact that you felt like you were the main act in a horrible circus. You felt like your name was Boo-boo The Fool. You didn't feel the need to get the last word in.

You could just write a strongly worded review on Yelp. Just like you'd done with the cabin after five people you knew were brutally murdered there. You left one star and wrote that you wish you could leave zero. It wasn't the property or owners fault that the night unfolded the way it did but it did feel good to mindlessly complain on the internet about it.

The officer pushed past you, making you stumble to the side. You needed a moment to regain your balance, your hand off your wrist and now supporting your weight on the hallway wall. With a shaky exhale, you followed the burly man down the hall.

He swung the metal door to the lobby open, not holding it for you. You scampered out of the hallway behind you as the door slowly shut on its own. 

"Here's your belongings, ma'am." A plastic grey tray with the items that were confiscated from your pockets was shoved into your chest. Where did the sudden use of a somewhat polite title come from? 

You didn't grab the tray, instead you decided to snatch your personal items while the officer had to just stand there and wait for you to finish. You shoved them into your pockets, forming awkward bulges in the fabric. You didn't give him thanks, he didn't deserve it as he didn't help you.

"Remember," He spoke in a low drone, "This isn't a fucking hotel. There's a homeless shelter down the road. Spend the night there next time and don't ever try and waste my time again." He tucked the tray under his arm, his bicep looked bigger then your head. You didn't want to try him. 

You didn't say goodbye. You just turned tail and ran out of the front door. 

Pushing into the outside, the sun shone directly into your eyes. _"Gah! Fuck!_ " A hand shot over your now closed eyes to protect them the sudden harsh light. You were having an off week to say the least.

Shaking your head and taking a clumsy step forward, you opened your eyes. A hand resting on your forehead blocking out a good amount of light while you looked at the sidewalk, letting your eyes adjust. 

What time is it?

The thought entered your mind as you pulled your hand from your forehead, rapidly blinking as your eyes watered. Despite the confirmation that there were possibly three big scary men out there who want to beat your face in, you still had work. Work might get your mind off your impending doom and maybe the hectic flow of things would clear your head, possibly allowing you to form a plan. A most likely half-baked one but most of your plans that night worked well enough to let you live.

_Others died as a result._

The survivors guilt nagged at the back of your skull. You knew it wasn't your fault. You didn't pull the trigger that shot Alexis's tit clean through her chest. You weren't the one who bludgeoned Henry. You weren't the one who threw the hatchet that buried itself into Jen's back. It wasn't your fault. The involvement of the situation got to you. If you weren't there things could have played out differently. Maybe Jen would still be alive. 

You hissed in an inhale through your teeth and told your brain to shut the fuck up. Pulling your phone from your pocket, you pressed the home button. The screen was barely readable in the sunlight but you made out the white numbers. It was nine thirty-six. Sully was going to pick you up around ten. 

You had to haul ass, now. Morning jogs are a very mentally healthy, with perfect teeth living in a gentrified neighborhood kind of thing. You weren't completely opposed to the idea but you weren't exactly used to it either. You didn't get much of a workout in the hospital because you couldn't afford much physical therapy and the doctors told you to be careful and go slow. Technically you'd be going slow, you couldn't exactly run very fast with no food in your system and weak ass legs from hardly using them until the past few days. 

You began to do a half power walk, half jog. Moving somewhat fast but not really. To onlooking passer by you looked like you were late to work and doing a walk of shame at the same time. Your stiff muscles begged you to stop but you kept on moving, you were practically dragging your right leg along as it protested with sharp shooting pains.

As you moved your thoughts drifted to Sully. You didn't know what to say. Last night you were prepared to tell him you killed a teenage boy but now you didn't think you could bring yourself to. If he knew what you did, you were afraid the men would target him. If they weren't already. If you had the choice, you'd walk to work or take the bus. However, work was way out of walking distance and the bus of a dollar fifty per ride. Not much at first but riding it over and over would be an exponential cost. You barely had enough money to make rent. Charlie had been lenient with your situation but he was also a known hard-ass and you were absolutely sure he wanted his rent money from you. 

You'd just have to keep taking the Sully-express and hope they kept their eyes on you. You'd keep Sully in the dark, keeping his faith and trust in you, and you'd feel more at ease hoping the men would leave him be. 

Huffing as you moved, lungs burning, your thoughts shifted from Sully to Goober. They knew about him for sure but hadn't killed him as some sort of sick warning, they'd even filled up his water bowl which made you feel vaguely sick. They were probably waiting for the right time to do it in front of you. Sick bastards. You hoped that if they ever tried it, Goober would bite their balls off. Goober was silly and sweet but also a little stupid. He wasn't good with new people. Whenever you'd walk him in the park he'd drag you along as you clung onto his leash for dear life, running at children. They'd either scream and run away or be excited that the giant puppy was barreling towards them and take being pounced on like a champ. If you were in danger you hoped that he'd help. If he even understood what danger was. He was that empty headed.

"Hey there!" A friendly call pulled you from your thoughts. Still doing your half jog half power walk, you looked to your side to find Tim moving in pace with you. He looked like he was just starting to power walk, not even lifting his legs as high as you were. This was a fucking painful effort for you and he made it look easy. He was still wearing the same flannel; does he have a huge supply of the same shirts or does he just never change?

You shifted your gaze ahead, not wanting to run into anything, "Hello." You huffed out turning a corner, he still followed.

"You still clearing your head? You been out all night or something?" Tim dryly laughed, you didn't meet his gaze.

"Nah," You lied still unwilling to tell him you just attempted to confess to murder, "Just out for a jog," You continued to lie, internally cringing,"Gotta stay active, ya'know?" 

Tim hummed, "That guy still giving you trouble?" He rephrased his question. You didn't like that he was prying into what you told him was a bad relationship. Rude even if you were lying.

"Men never give me trouble." You said as you thought back to officer dickwad, you smiled at the fact that you punched him in his stupid fucking face, "I don't take shit from them. It was a woman." You did get out of a relationship badly with a woman, four years ago. A breakup you'd been somewhat over for some time. Her death did dig up old feelings of love, nostalgia, and resentment. The only men in your life that were giving you shit weren't giving you bad excuses about where they were last night, making you question their devotion to your relationship. Instead they left a clue of their presence in your house, deciding to not show themselves yet to further terrorize you. The thought that they could be anywhere or even next to you was terrifying. 

"You really take no prisoners, hm?" He sounded contently amused, like he was talking to a kid who just said something incredibly wrong with the confidence of a-thousand men. Tim was a weird guy. You were sure he meant well but he always said things in such a cryptically creepy way it was like he was a bargain-bin Doug. Doug was like that, but he never had a note of condescension in his voice or even a hint of sarcasm. Tim was nice enough but his vibe rubbed you the wrong way. 

Your body burned but you didn't slow down. You wanted to beat Sully to the curb, if you didn't he ask where you'd come from. "Nope." You popped the p obnoxiously. You didn't care to elaborate. 

You both continued on, him moving alongside you leisurely while you felt like you were going to trip over your own feet and eat shit on the sidewalk. You probably had crazy morning breath and there was no way you were going into your apartment. They could be waiting for you. You knew you'd have to go back to your apartment later as it was the only place you could stay and Goober was there. You couldn't leave your fur baby hanging out to dry. You'd just have to down shot after shot of espresso when you get to work. The overpowering scent would just give you stale coffee breath. 

The silence between you two had gone on for so long that it was thickly awkward and you wanted to end it but you didn't know what to say. You didn't want to elaborate on the fake relationship you'd just gotten over. You didn't want to talk about your current situation, which was all you could think about, you just anxiously side eyed him, hoping he would get the message. 

"Uh... any plans for today?" Tim sparked up some small talk. You didn't know if you were thankful for it or if you wanted him to just go away already.

"Just work," You let out a shaky breath, feet pounding on the sidewalk in an uneven rhythm because of your limp, "As always."

"Nothing else?" Tim was the nosiest acquaintance you'd ever had, his eyes staring into you as you focused on the road ahead. You could feel his eyes piercing into you.

"Go home, pet my dog." You brought up Goober, you could talk about the furry idiot for hours with ease.

"You have a dog?" Tim hummed in mild interest.

"Yeah." You could see the curb that Sully always pulled up on to pick you up, you'd be free of the awkward conversation soon. "You have any pets?" You subconsciously deprived him of more information about yourself, he was nosy and it was fucking annoying.

"I got a rat," Unexpected but he was kind of greasy so you could see it, "His name's Toby. Excitable, bites everything, drools everywhere, and fucking stupid." He spat the words out a little too convincingly. He sounded like he really hated his rat. 

You let out an awkward laugh, "Rats are cute! And Toby is such a cute name for one."

"If you say so." Tim huffed, flicking his head up so some of his thick dark hair flew away from his face. "He can be okay sometimes." You could hardly hear his words as he said them so quietly, but you could sense the small smile in his voice. Guess he didn't hate his rat after all, I mean who could.

You began to slow your gait, checking your phone once again. Nine fifty-three. Sully would be here any second. As you began to walk towards the empty space on the curb that Sully always pulled into, Tim slowed down as well. You came to a stop, looking down at your outfit, same at yesterdays. Your shirt now had a dark stain where you'd drooled on it in your sleep. Charming. 

He stood slightly behind you, you weren't touching but you know he was inches away from doing so, you could feel the air from his barely labored breaths on your hair. This guy didn't understand social boundaries in the slightest. "Hey, so-" You turned to him to give him a cue to leave, when you did your arm bumped into his chest. His face was pointed down at you and his eyes had been boring into the top of your head, his hair falling sharply into his eyes but doing nothing to lessen the piercing stare. You took a step back, swinging your arms wildly to regain balance as you tipped backwards. You steadied yourself as he began to reach an arm out, gripping your shoulder to help you. You stood at your full height and he still eclipsed you by a head or so, it was intimidating, especially combined with the weirdly tense grip he had on your shoulder. "Uhm," He didn't move back as you started to speak, "My friend is coming to pick me up so-"

_Beep! Beep!_

The soft hum of Sully's cars motor filled your ears as he pulled up to the curb, perfectly parallel parking. Tim's hand dropped from your shoulder quickly, but he didn't step away. He rolled down the passenger side window, a cheeky grin spread across his sun kissed cheeks. "Hello!" He excitedly rolled the greeting of his tongue, "Didn't expect to see you two together!" You didn't know how to respond. You hoped Tim wouldn't drop any hints that you'd walked a few blocks to your current spot together. Sully knew you were a lazy ass in the mornings and would start asking questions. 

"Oh!" You had to beat Tim to the punch, and just hope he would pick up on the social cue, "He was just telling me good morning. We were chatting while I was waiting for you." Sully didn't look convinced. He had a mischievous glint in his green eyes. Your fucked up hair, the same clothes from yesterday, being withing arms reach of the hot new regular who quickly dropped the contact he had with you. It painted a very obvious picture in his mind. You'd have a lot of explaining and backing up to do on the ride to work.

"Hmmmm," Sully had a shit eating grin, "Interesting. Well, sorry to steal her away from you but we gotta get to work," Please shut up, "Well see you there today right?" He batted his eyelashes at Tim. You pulled your lips into your mouth to keep from cringing too hard. 

Tim cracked a smile and let out a laugh, "Oh yeah, of course. Can't get enough of the coffee there." Tim wasn't helping the situation by looking down at you with a creepily longing stare. You scooted away from him indignantly. 

"Bye." You deadpanned, swinging the cars door open, not wanting to see the creepy stare on the hairy smoker's face until you were at a safe distance. You brushed up against the man who reeked of smoke, he was even closer then before. You slammed the door shut and looked up at the man through the window, gave him a 'white person smile' and held up a hand in a goodbye.

"Be seeing you." You heard Tim respond as Sully quickly pulled the car from the curb. He wanted to gossip about your implied encounter as soon as possible.

"No, I did not sleep with him." The second the window was rolled up, you turned to Sully with the most stern look you could muster.

"Oh suuuuuure." Sully laughed as he elongated the word, his mouth turned up into a shit eating grin. 

"No, like, seriously I didn't." You dropped your voice, your situation didn't make you feel lighthearted enough to entertain the idea. "He just said hi while I was waiting for you," You sounded like a politician accused of something they totally did, "Tim just doesn't understand personal space, I think."

Sully made an 'O' with his mouth, slapping a hand to his cheek dramatically, "So his name is Tim!" You'd just dug your grave deeper by dropping the mans name and you groaned loudly.

"He told it to me just now I'm serious!" You cried out as Sully drove the car on ahead, sinking lower and lower into your seat.

"Then why do you look like," At a stop sign he looked you up and down in the gayest once over possible,"That."

"I was too lazy to change this morning or fix my hair." You somewhat earnestly explained. You couldn't change, didn't want to go up to your apartment and you didn't have the time anyways. "Seriously," You dropped your voice into the most serious 'I'm not kidding' voice you possibly could, "That's all that happened. Seriously." You echoed, flexing your hands in and out of fists. Your paranoia turning to annoyance. 

"I believe you," His fingers flew up on the steering wheel in a mock surrender, "Seriously. I'm just messin' with ya." Sully finished with a dry laugh. "I know you'd never," He sighed out, grin spreading over his lips again, "You don't have that kind of game anyways."

You snorted out a falsely offended laugh, "Whatever, whore." You were in a sour mood but you weren't going to attempt to bring down his, and his seemingly innocent giggle at the comment made you smile.

The rest of the drive was filled with idle chitchat. Sully dropping the Tim subject pretty quickly out of respect. The thing about being close to someone who's mental state is constant vigilance and general terror is that you don't fuck with their trust in you. You respect them. He went on about how his Moms been, idle gossip from the old ladies in the trailer park he lived in. You just smiled and nodded, occasionally chiming in an,"Ooh!" or "Whoa, that's crazy." Your mind was on a lot of things. Your failed attempt to ruin your own life just led to a path of your life also being ruined. That path was much slipperier and ended with being brutally murdered. 

Emile looked you up and down with teenage judgement, not very far from the gay judgement Sully had looked at you with, when you walked in looking like shit next to a practically glowing Sully. Lazily smiling and slacking his shoulders, Emile chuckled, "Nice outfit." 

"Be nice!" Sully playfully whined at the teen, weakly slapping at the boy's arm.

"Can you do me a favor, Sully?" The ginger passed you the worst apron, it always had a sticky grey substance running down its middle that never dried. You put it on anyway, nothing could be as bad as the threat of death looming over your head. 

"Sure, what'cha need?" He took his hair-tie from his hair, pulling out his loose ponytail. 

"Can you cover some tables for me for a few?" You watched as he threw his hair up high on his head, tying it into a high bun. "I didn't get breakfast," In jail. "At home. I just want a coffee for now so I won't be long." You fluently pleaded.

"Sure, sure." The words opened an old wound he didn't know about. You bit the inside of your lip, forcing yourself not to frown at the memory of Jen's last sentiments. There was a sparkle in his eyes, he really wanted to make a joke about you and Tim. You felt it. He didn't, you were glad he had to decency to understand social cues. 

"Thanks, man. I'll be servin' in five." You waved to him as you shuffled past him, grabbing a notepad and stack of menus. Shoving the notepad into your aprons pocket and tucking the menus in their usual spot, under your arm. You pushed yourself into the kitchen, hot hair sticking to your skin unpleasantly. You probably smelled like the dank air of the stuffy jail cell. You hoped no one said anything about it, they probably just thought you hadn't showered in a few days.

There was a fresh pot of coffee sitting in the thick glass pitcher. You silently thanked whoever started the coffee before grabbing an empty and probably clean mug from the counter besides the coffee machine. You worked quickly, pouring the coffee and making it just the way you like it. The second it was ready you knocked your head back and practically inhaled the caffeine. God knows you needed it. You slept as good as you could have on the floor of a jail cell while having a horrible nightmare about being chased by the men who took your mental stability and threw it off a cliff.

With an, "Ah!" After a deep inhale, you were off. Pushing the doors of the kitchen open you made your way to a pair of heads seated in a booth. As you navigated the diner by heart, you untucked two menus from under your arm. "Hello, I'm (Y/n), Welcome to the hot and crusty diner I'll be your-"

"Hot and crusty waitress?" Brian finished the line for you again. It felt like you guys had a thing. It was a nice feeling in a sea of shitty things constantly going wrong. 

Looking up from your working arms, you saw him smiling at you. Sitting on the opposite side of him was rat boy, Toby. Calling him the name in your head quickly reminded you that Tim's rat was named Toby, a funny and fitting coincidence. You did your best to not look like you were incredibly disappointed and that your day was even more ruined. Why would someone as sweet and daddy as Brian sit with fucking rat boy?

Your brain kicked back into work mode and you opened your mouth to do your well rehearsed lines. 

"Toby, what do you to say?" Brian beat you to the punch, looking over to the brunette.

_What?_

Your mouth hung slightly open and your brows furrowed as Toby looked down at his hands. "Eye contact." Brian urged, sounding like a parent lecturing their child. 

You looked quizzically at Brian but your eyes met with Toby's when he hesitantly looked up from his hands, fingers fidgeting, "Sorry." Toby grumbled through ground teeth, his gaze was one of embarrassment and anger.

"You're fine." You smiled. He was not, but working in customer service taught you to be nice no matter what, you can get some fat tips that way.

"For what?" Brian egged the boy, who was at least eighteen, on. He nudged the smaller boy with his elbow, jostling the boys body roughly.

"For causing a sssuh-scene." Toby sounded like Brian had taken away his Game Boy. 

"Really," You began, it was nice Toby was apologizing, even if he was defiantly being forced by Brian somehow, "It's fine. It was my bad anyway." It wasn't completely but if you lie to customers and make them feel better about themselves things will work out in your favor. "Actually," You slid the menus onto the table with a wide smile, "Today's on me." 

It wasn't on you actually. Emile just didn't care when people dined and dashed. Half the time he was playing games on his phone and never noticed when customers came to pay. The only reason the diner was still in business with his incompetence was because most people paid because it was just what you do. That didn't mean you didn't have the occasional dine and dash, but they weren't common. You'd just let them believe you were doing them a favor out of the goodness of your heart.

"Are you sure?" Brian raised his thick brows in mild shock.

"Think of it as a peace offering." You smiled at Toby whom you still thought was a fucker.

"We couldn't possibly-" Brian began to protest.

"Nonsense," You shook your head giving them a fake easy smile, "I insist."

Were you doing this because hot boys and a big tip? Yes. Did you feel shame? Absolutely fucking not. Though you didn't know how you felt about Toby at the moment, he was cute but he was a little monster. 

"If (Y/n) is going to be so kind as to take care of our meal. Then, Toby," Brian stared at the frowning brunette, his voice icily dropping an octave, "Explain yourself." He was honestly acting like an upset father to this man-child right about now and you were living for it.

Toby rolled his eyes and cracked his head to the side a couple of times. "I hah-have Buh-B.P.D." You understood the acronym for bipolar personality disorder. You learned about it a bit in high school but not much. You didn't know why Brian was making him explain that about himself in all honesty. Maybe it was to further shame him for his behavior. "I tend to luh-lash out at puh-puh-people." His eyelids twitched nearly shut but not all the way as he grimaced and rolled his shoulders back. "I didn't muh-mean what I ssuh-said."

You felt second hand embarrassment for Toby. Having to explain something like that to a total stranger had to be painful. Your opinion of him was quickly shifting to one holding more empathy. He couldn't control his emotions as well and he was also being forced and somewhat publicly humiliated. That's something out of your middle school nightmares. Your opinion of Brian shifted as well. He had another side to himself, something harder and less empathetic. You didn't think you liked it at all. 

"It's all good," You weakly smiled, "Now," You grabbed your notepad from your apron pocket,"What can I get for you?"

Time seemed to slip through your sweaty fingers. That was the funny thing about time and dread. When something you're excited for is hours or days away time stretches out every second to feel like a minute. When something bad is coming, time crumples over on itself to make the path to the bad thing even shorter. 

"Hey!" You popped next to the odd duos booth, "How are you both doing? Can I get you anything?" 

Toby's eyes had already been on you when you were approached. When he noticed your gaze, he looked away as fast as possible to make it look like he wasn't staring at you. It was cute. Brian was focused on his free pancakes. You could respect that.

"Nuffing ahwt awhll, ffank you." Brian looked up to you, cheeks absolutely stuffed. You had to suppress a giggle. 

You turned to Toby with a soft gaze, the earlier encounter making you think of him of less of a gutter rat and more of a cute rat you see on the internet and go, _"Oh my God! It's a baby! Still a rat but it's a baby!_ "

"No," Toby deadpanned, you heard the shifting of fabric and a soft ' _thump_ ' from under the table, "Thank you." He added, with a slightly more polite tone. 

"Hey, (Y/n)!" Sully pulled your eyes from the men to to him, "I'm on my thirty and I'm gonna go to Miccy-D's" He jutted a thumb over his shoulder towards the glass doors, "Do you want anything for later?" He set down his menus on an empty table while untying his apron.

Not stepping away from the table, being relaxed and fine with using your normal not customer service tone around the regulars, you began, "As much as eight bucks can buy ya. 'Cus that's all the cash I got in my wallet." There was no way you were going to make him pay for your food. You were almost as broke as him but you deserved some fast and greasy food for all the shit you'd been trough.

Sully set his apron down beside the menus and padded over to you. As casually as he could, he reached into your ass pocket and fished out your wallet. It was something you'd both done hundreds of times before. You were both questionably mature adults, it wasn't like _that._ He was also gay, like, wear rainbow accessories all pride month and have a bumper sticker on the back of his car that said ' _Honk if you're gay',_ gay. 

"Be back in a few!" He had your wallet held between his index and middle fingers, flicking them to the side in a mock salute as he turned to exit the diner. You trusted him with it, you knew he wouldn't do anything funny.

"Not to pry," Brian's voice tore your gaze from Sully's retreating form,"But are you two dating?" He must have swallowed his mouthful of food as he now sounded like a normal person and not an absolute child.

"Oh!" You could see where that misconception could stem from, "No," You fiddled with the menus under your arm, "He's gay." You were tempted to add in the fact that you weren't dating anybody and were quite available. You refrained from the urge, you're a dead woman walking.

"Interesting." Brian shallowly nodded. Piercing his pancakes on his fork, looking towards the door where Sully had just left.

"Cuh-could'a had me fffuh-fooled." Toby chirped, suddenly in a much better mood, leaning back into the booth. 

"We're just really close." You smiled, it was a bittersweet one. You didn't know if you could make another miraculous escape again. You hoped he wouldn't mourn too hard or too long, he didn't deserve that kind of grief in his life. 

"Been friends for a long time?" You weren't used to customers actually caring about anything you had to say other then when you asked about their orders.

"Few years." You shrugged, fingers idly feeling the rough sides of the menus.

"Wuh-would you die ffuh-for him?" Toby's sudden very intrusive and very out of left field question had you looking at him slack-jawed. Brian smacked the kid with his free hand, shooting him a mildly intense glare as you laughed uncomfortably.

"Ahahaha," He was just socially awkward, calm down, you told yourself. "I'd die for anyone that is even mildly polite to me." You laughed, unconsciously backing away, physically and from the conversation.

"Infereffesfhing." Brian mumbled through a mouthful of pancakes.

"I'll let you both get back to your food. Emile knows that I'm takin' care of y'all so you can just walk out when you're done." You informed, head jutting towards the teen who looked asleep at his post. 

"Ffanks afhen." Brian waved to you, fork in hand.

"Yeah, thuh-thanks." Toby grimaced involuntarily, wiggling each of his fingers as he waved you goodbye. You wished he didn't do that. It was far too reminiscent of Rogers.

**\----**

The door was still unlocked from the night before. You thought Sully would need the door unlocked but he didn't even know about the last night's previous activities. Said activities being confessing to murder, decking a cop, and sleeping in a jail cell. You knew it was you who left the door unlocked but it was still unnerving that they could be in your apartment at the very moment. Waiting to eviscerate you. 

In one hand, you held a greasy brown McDonald's bag, in the other, your taser. You switched the taser on, finger ghosting over the trigger. You reminded yourself of Goober and told yourself if the dog barreled towards you, you wouldn't tase the poor idiot on reaction. 

Peeling a few stray fingers from the bag, you gripped them around the door handle. You swung the door open as fast as you possibly could. The door groaned as it opened, disagreeing with the sudden movement. Jutting the taser forward, you entered the apartment. Goober sat on the baby puke green couch, he lazily opened an eye at your arrival. His tail wagged, thumping lowly against the couch cushion. 

You shut the door behind you, clicking the lock shot. If they happened to not be in here, you weren't going to leave their window of opportunity open. 

"Where the fuck are you, huh?" You sidestepped your way to your kitchen counter top, placing the grease stained bag onto it. Gotta make sure your food is safe before your own life is confirmed to not be in danger. Priorities. 

You looked over the counter top and to the kitchen floor to see if any of them were crouching behind it. It was a funny picture to imagine, a giant murderous man hiding behind a counter like a six year old playing hide and seek. The kitchen was clear.

You snapped your gaze to your tiny living room. Goober beginning to stand on the couch, leaning his front side down and putting his adorable dog butt in the air as he yawned. Your foot collided with something as you moved deeper into the living room. You jumped back, pointing the taser towards the supposed threat.

It was Goobers full food bowl. His water bowl beside it was full as well. You also didn't smell anything that suggested that he'd done his business anywhere in the tiny apartment. You could always tell when he had. Have they been taking care of your dog? You bet they were either going to steal his adorable ass or they wanted you to think they liked your dog, then when you think he's safe they'll gut him. 

Pushing the thoughts away, you advanced. You could see your entire living room. All that furnished it was an old TV that hardly worked half the time, a stained coffee table of dubious origin, and your ugly couch. The only things left unseen was behind the couch itself and the metal balcony that sat outside the window.. The window that rested directly behind the couch. 

You advanced, faster. You didn't want to move slowly anymore. That just give them a longer period to pounce on you. You climbed onto the couch, Goober wagging his tail, following the path of your head behind the couch. Nothing but your off-white carpet. You shot your head up and pushed it into the cool glass of the window. 

There was nothing but the black intertwined metal of the outdoor balcony and the thin sets of stairs leading up. A ladder led to the alleyway below. They either got in through your front door or your window. The next time you go out, you're going to buy nails and a hammer. Seal the window shut so they can't get in. For now though, you weren't going to leave. You didn't feel safe leaving the apartment unattended for even longer then you already had.

You jumped from the couch, careful where you pointed the taser. You stormed in the hallway. The bathroom door was open from the last time you opened it. The shower curtain was pulled shut. The sight was simple yet filled you with an apprehensive terror. You weren't going to let yourself hesitate. You wouldn't let them see how fucking terrified you were of them.

With a screeching battle cry, you swung the shower curtain open. Throwing the taser forward, ready to immobilize any masked asshole who dare hide in your bathroom. There were nothing there but half empty bottles of body wash and shampoo. You let the shower curtain fall closed, pulling yourself away. There was only one room left. Your bedroom. 

You bolted from the bathroom, into the hall, and swung into your bedroom. You always left the door open so Goober could sleep on your bed. 

Holding the taser at arms length, you swept it around the tiny room. There was your bed, snuggled into two of the rooms corners. A tiny desk that you kept your laptop and school supplies on, a chair pushed into it neatly. Then there was your closet. There were only two places they could be hiding. 

You tore the closets door open, taser at the ready. You were greeted with your clothes and hamper that sat slumped over on the closets floor. You shut the door with a huff. Feeling a bit safer and more secure, knowing there was only one place they could be hiding. Under the bed.

You fell to your knees, taser hand throwing itself under the bed and haphazardly pulling the trigger. 

_**Tzzzt-Tzzzt-Tzzzt**_

The crackle of electricity filled the air as you pushed your head into the carpet. You didn't want to take a chance. They liked to build up tension then strike. If they were hiding there, they'd totally wait for you to look at them. If one of those _'I think I'm cool and have a big dick because I kill people'_ jackasses was under your bed, they would have been in a world of hurt. There was nothing under there other then discarded wrappers and some dust bunnies that you'd never bother to clean up.

You were safe, for now.

You flicked the taser off and pushed it into your pocket. You looked out of your bedroom window, the sun was beginning to dip behind the building across the street. You'd bet what little cash you had that they'd come at night. More dramatic that way. 

All things considered, it was a good night. You took the fastest shower humanly possible, with the anxiety of getting knifed just like in _Psycho_ filling you the entire time. You grabbed the first outfit you could before you hopped into the stream of water you didn't bother to let heat up. 

Wearing thick (f/c) pajama pants and a big black sweater that read ' _Big Dick Is Back In Town'_ in bold white comic sans filled you with a little confidence. Not much though.

You'd done your nightly business, grabbed your diabetes inducing dinner and a plastic cup of water. With Goober in tow, you hauled yourself into your room for the night. You locked your door and prepared for the long haul.

With a shitty movie playing on your laptop, stomach full, and dog asleep at your feet. You fell into a blissful slumber.

_You had to pee. So fucking bad._

Your bladder was screaming at you to wake the hell up. Groaning, you rolled to the side of your bed not facing the wall. You pawed around the dark room, feeling the floor for your phone. You weren't going to turn the light on. If you did, what remaining sleep clung to your eyes would quickly escape you, and you needed as much as you could get. You'd then be up all night, anxious and ears straining to hear any movement. 

You hadn't anticipated such a strong urge to piss. Your body should be working with you and not sending you into your dark apartment, in the middle of the night. When a murderer or murderers could be waiting for you in the dark. What are the chances?

Your fingers wrapped around your phone. Pressing the home button, the touch screen lit up your tired face. You groaned under the light. You flicked the phones flashlight on, Goober lightly stirring as you got up from your bed. It was just going to be a quick trip to the bathroom and back. You're fine.

Unlocking the door with a ' _click_ ' you swung the door open. You shone the flashlight down the hall. It reached to the end of the hall and somewhat into your living room. As you approached the bathroom, your couch came into view. 

Someone was sitting on your couch.

You almost pissed yourself. 

Your flashlight shone on the white mask that you once threw a ramen bowl at, the same mask that was splattered with Henry's brains as he bludgeoned him to death. He was in your apartment, in the middle of the fucking night, chilling on your couch. 

Neither of you moved. Your breath caught in your throat. You forgot the taser on the floor beside your bed. Rookie final girl mistake. A mistake that just might cost you your life. 

Masky was staring you down, you knew it. His tan jacket was clean of the bloodstains you associated with it. That must have been a bitch to clean. Part of you wondered what he used to get the _nasty_ stains out.

He leaned forward in his seat, seeming very interested in your reaction to his sudden appearance. As he slowly began to stand, you could see he was crowbar-free. You didn't doubt for a second he could snap your neck one-handed. He didn't need it at all. You didn't know if that was scarier or not.

"How's it goin'?" You let out a breathy laugh at the end of the sentence, taking a step back. There was no fucking way you were getting out.

He didn't stand at his full height before he started to barrel towards you. His thundering footsteps sending pure horror through your body, your flashlight dancing around your small hall as you jumped. Peeing could wait.

With a unintentional shriek of terror, you whipped around and bolted down the hall and threw yourself into your room. You slammed the thin door shut, locking it as fast as you possibly could with your hands shaking and sweaty.

**_Knock, Knock._**

You let out a few breathy sobs, trying to suppress the sound of distress with your hand. "Go away!" You screamed at the door. You knew damn well he could break it down with no problem. He was fucking taunting you. You pointed your phones flashlight towards the door, like the light was going to vanquish the monster behind it, the yellow ray of light wavering in your hand.

_**Knock, knock.**_

"I'll call the fucking cops! I swear to God, asshole!" You screamed at the rattling door.

Goober began to stir behind you, shifting the fabric of your bed sheets behind you. The sound was simple but it made you anxiously whip around. It was just your sweet fur baby, who looked back up at you with sleepy eyes, but that didn't stop your heart from pounding like the bass from a shitty metal song. 

_"If you call the cops,"_ Masky's muffled voice lowly hissed through the flimsy wood, " _I am going to break in there."_ He rattled the doorknob tauntingly, the whole door shaking threateningly, " _And have some fuckin' fun with you,"_ There was his laugh again, just like that night, you hated it," _They won't make it in time."_

You had a taser resting on the floor. You bent down, snatching the taser. You considered texting the police but if he heard the sirens he might break the door down and kill your ass. It'd be a quicker death then he'd probably like to give to you but it'd be game over for you. You were trapped in your own room and you really had to fucking piss.

_**Knock, knock.**_

 _"You listenin' to me in there, (Y/n)?"_ His muffled voice rolled your name off his tongue with way too much sickly delight, " _Or do I have to come in there and check?"_

"You come in here, asshole," You pointed the taser towards the door, he couldn't see it at all but it made you feel better, "And I swear to God!" Your voice dropped off; you shouldn't have opened your mouth, you were challenging him when you had no help, no backup, no escape.

" _What are you going to do, hm?"_ You could his fingers drum on the other side of the door as he quietly chuckled to himself. 

"Uhm." You didn't want to reveal your one measly advantage. Granted, it was much better then a bowl of ramen and spite. "Don't come in to find out?" You rose your brows and cracked an uneasy smile to yourself.

The door handle violently rocked back and forth. You jumped back, your head slamming into the wall with a quiet gasp. You were tempted to put the taser to the metal and let 'er rip but that'd make him angry. An angry Masky is a dead you. 

You anxiously looked behind you to your window. There was sadly no platform for you to safely escape from your apartment. You go out that window, you'd break your already legs for a second time and leave yourself exposed and venerable. You doubted anyone would come to your rescue at three in the morning. 

_**Knock, Knock.**_

"Quit it, douche bag!" You snarled at the door, tears still streaking down your face. You were terrified out of your little pea-brain mind. You were still angry that he had the gall to walk back into your life to continue to fuck with you. Angry that he got away with the murders of everyone you once knew. Angry that he had fun while doing it. Angry that you were probably giving him what he wanted.

" _You didn't think that you little stunt was actually going to save you right?"_ Masky tutted. The realization that he was fully aware of what you'd attempted to do hit you like a truck. Hell, maybe he let you go to the cops because he knew how hard you were going to fail. 

Deciding not to acknowledge the question that sent ice through your veins, you deflected,"Can't you just piss off already? I want to fucking go to bed!" You tapped your finger on the tasers trigger to reassure yourself, not pressing down hard enough to turn it on. 

_"I'm going to keep you up all night, sweetheart."_ The slimy man purred through the wood.

"I told you before," You really had to fucking pee, "Dinner and a movie first, asshole!" 

It was going to be a long night.


	12. 11 - Take That, Rat Boy!

It felt like days but you knew it was only a handful of hours. You standing in the middle of your room, taser pointed at the door in an unseen warning. Him, standing outside your door, knocking and taunting you. He made a big show of stomping into your kitchen around four in the morning. You're pretty sure he drank all of your coke. It wasn't like you were going to go out there to stop him. He was bigger, stronger, faster, than you; someone with a taser but scared out of their mind, and about to explode with pee. 

It's hard to be scared when your possible murderer is stealing your hard earned soft drinks, making you mad enough to want to pee in a cup and throw it at him. You didn't but there was the idea. You didn't want to get horribly murdered by a man covered in piss, your own piss. 

You toughed it out. As much as crossing your legs as hard as you could and whispering," _Oh fuck, oh fuck, I have to pee."_ is considered toughing it out. 

_"Hey (Y/n)?"_ His muffled voice whispered through the door, sounding like he was about to tell you some juicy gossip at your eighth birthday sleepover. 

"Leave." You hissed through ground teeth, eyes watering. Not because of terror but because your entire body was screaming at you to pee. You could hardly think of self preservation. 

" _Rude."_ Masky attempted to deadpan but you could hear the very obvious joy in his tone," _But!"_ He tutted," _I'm a good guy,"_ Absolute bullshit," _I'll get out of your hair."_

You toyed with the idea of telling him to hurry up or you'd piss on him, you decided to keep your lips sealed. He might just stay outside your door even longer. " _Have a good day."_

Without a second thought in your piss occupied mind, you responded,"You too!" You immediately smacked yourself on the forehead. It was the kind of thing you say on instinct to your Mom over the phone, not to a man who fully intended on terrorizing and killing you. 

" _Aww,"_ You did not mean to say that," _You're such a sweet thing."_ He drummed his fingers idly on the door. _"I'll be thinking of you."_ His words were a sickening mockery of sweet nothings you say while laying side by side with your lover. You made a mental note to not watch romances for awhile. 

Your mouth hung open, slack-jawed. You herd his loud obnoxious footfalls as they disappeared from outside your door. You threw yourself forward, pressing your ear to the wooden barrier. You strained your ear to hear more of the sweet sound of his departure. 

You herd him swing your door open while Goober began to stir. He'd been asleep most of the time, completely unaware of the situation at hand. _"I'll be seeing you."_ The words echoed emptily in your pee-filled brain. You herd that somewhere before, somewhere recently. 

_**Thud!**_

The door slammed shut, the apartment walls rattling with the force. If that woke up your neighbors they were definitely going to complain about it to Charlie. 

If you were smart and not about to actually piss your pants, you would have waited hours before coming out of your room but you weren't in the position to do so. You had a taser to defend yourself as well as a cutely dumb dog. You didn't spend much time hyping yourself up before you undid the lock as fast as humanly possible. Tearing the door open with a yell, you saw no psycho murderer down the hall. 

That was good enough for you. You sprinted down the hall, taser switched on and swung into the bathroom at breakneck speed. You slammed the door shut. As you sat on the toilet, you opened the shower curtain to check for the man even though you were quite sure he'd left. He could have just made a show of leaving so he could pounce on you from a hiding spot.

As your insides sung the song of angels, you heard Goober run down the hallway. Little guy was probably starving. There was no confused or excited barking so you could safely assume the man had left. Goober would have woke up the entire apartment complex with his barking if Masky was still in your home.

After you finished with your very important business, you let yourself out of the bathroom. You were tired, exhausted but the adrenaline that had kept you up all night. You didn't even think you could fall back asleep if you wanted to, your nerves were still a jumbled mess. You at least got some rest before the masked fuck decided to torment you but you still needed a cup of coffee and him to leave you the fuck alone forever. 

You were eternally grateful that today was your day off from work. If you had work you probably would have passed out on one of your customers tables. As a college student, it wouldn't be the first time. You couldn't take another lecture like that from your shift manager, so you were somewhat happy with your circumstances. 

Entering the kitchen, preparing to make some cheap and shitty instant coffee, you saw Goober chomping away at the full food bowl. The motherfucker set out your dogs breakfast. That was a ritual between you and Goober. As much as you wanted to be grateful for him taking care of the hectic chore for you, you felt somewhat robbed and even more violated. 

Opening your fridge to find something to eat for breakfast, you came face to bottle with an empty liter of coke. He drank the entire fucking thing and left the empty bottle in your fridge. You wondered a moment if he lived with his murder buddies, if he was this shitty of a roommate with them, leaving empty boxes of cereal in the cupboard. If he was, how was he not dead yet?

Grabbing the bottle from the refrigerator's shelf, you stepped back. As you turned for your trashcan, the bottle revealed a sticky note on its back. The faded yellow paper read out, ' _Have a nice day off'_ in neat cursive. It was reminiscent of the note that was on Michael's chest that night. 

He knew about your day off. Granted, he got into your home at three in the morning and drank all your soda. It was violating and scary but he'd done worse. It was just a reminder of how deep in shit you're in.

With a huff, you threw it into your trashcan. The bottle sat atop the rest of the trash. A reminder that today was trash day. As much as you didn't want to go outside, you didn't want trash all over you apartment. Masky was already here, trashin' the place up with his presence. You didn't need more. 

First though, you were going to take Goober on a walk. The sun was just beginning to rise, filling your kitchen with a dim natural light. The thought of going outside was scary but not so much in broad daylight. They were ballsy but not that ballsy.

After a rushed breakfast of milk that would expire any day now and off brand cereal, you grabbed your thick nylon dog leash and clipped it onto Goobers collar. The collar was a bright (f/c) faux leather, a grey heart dangling from its center that read ' _Goober'_ as well as your phone number. Goober was wiggling with joy, tail dangerously lashing about.

You were nearly ready to brave the outdoors, with a giant dog that could probably tear through skin and crush bone. First though, you wanted to get out of your pajamas. The shirts text of ' _Big Dick Is Back In Town_ ' isn't exactly appropriate for going to a park where children play. 

You'd removed the clothing that sweat had partially glued to your skin. You threw on a light (f/c) sundress, it's fabric stopped mid-thigh and was quite breezy. Also, it had pockets on the skirt which was really cool and fun. Your tired brain wasn't trying to look cute, you just snatched the first article of clothing your hand touched in your closet. 

You weren't in the mood to shower off the drying layer of sweat. The dress was easy enough to shift around so you could apply a thick layer of deodorant on your skin, eliminating the stench of the mild body odor that came with pure sweaty terror. 

"Alright Goob-boob." You sighed, exiting the bathroom. The dog wait by the door, leash laying limp on the floor. Bending over, you grabbed the leash. As you stood, you grabbed your phone from the kitchen counter top that sat idly near your front door. You stuffed your phone into your dress pocket. You weren't going to be easily able to hold onto your taser and Goobers leash at the same time. It took a good bit of adjusting the phone to not have a big obvious rectangular lump on your hip. Now being, somewhat hidden in the folds of your dress, you smiled in mild satisfaction. The police were most likely going to be useless to you but at the least a hindrance to them. If you had to call them, you would. 

You kicked your scuffed sneakers on, struggling a moment to get your heel fully into the shoe. You grabbed your taser with your free hand, as well as your keys. Unlocking the front door, you and Goober exited the tiny apartment. It wouldn't do much but you locked the door behind you, shoving the keys next to your phone

You took the elevator to the lobby, not trusting the pup with the way too steep stairs. You looked like a resident of the building even more so then usual. Deep bags under your eyes, wearing an outfit that was too cute for your situation, holding a taser, typical for the apartments residents. 

It was seven in the morning. It was cool outside, goosebumps filled your exposed skin but it was a trip back upstairs and you were too lazy to grab a jacket. The walk to the park was uneventful, only a single car passing you on the street as you and Goober made your way down the sidewalk, and you definitely didn't hold your breath until it was gone, and your hand wasn't on your taser.

The park was empty. It was Sunday, everyone was sleeping in. The fresh air that didn't smell of stale coffee or mothballs was refreshing. Goober was way too energetic for seven in the morning, bounding down the trail. He was completely awake while the whole world around you both seemed to still be asleep. 

You let the dog do as he pleased, that being peeing on a bush as you looked around your surroundings. You were glad the nearest forest was far in the distance. Forests weren't pretty to you anymore. Their mystery felt like a thousand eyes boring into your soul, tearing you apart in their minds. You looked at the forest and the forest looked back. 

You didn't want to be outside anymore. 

You wanted to spend the rest of the day comfortably inside. Let Goober shit on the kitchen floor, you'd had enough fresh air. Five minutes worth was just fine by you. "Come on." You huffed, tugging gently on the pups leash. He whined as resisted. You had to pull out your trump card. Slapping the tops of your thighs the best you could with your full hands, you threw your voice to a cartoonishly sweet one, "Goober want treat?" 

His ears instantly perked up and you could see his mouth open in anticipation. "Yes?" He jumped with a yip, that was a definite yes. You both began running out of the park. You looking over your shoulder at a forest that may or may not be empty and Goober looking ahead with hungry joy.

Being back in your humble, smelly home, was relaxing as it was anxiety inducing. What if he came back during the few minutes you were out? Letting Goober off the least, he darted to the kitchen, nails scratching on the kitchen floor. You stayed near the door, locking it behind you. Finger ghosting over the tasers trigger, eyes daring someone the emerge from the door to your bathroom or bedroom. But no one did. 

With a desperate bark that made you jump from you skin, you turned to see the top of Goober's head behind the kitchen counter. He was walking in circles, waiting desperately for his treat and a big dose of validation, which he rightfully deserved.

Hesitantly, you let your shoulders relax. Putting your keys on your kitchen counter, you padded to the knee level cabinet that housed Goobers treats. In a clear plastic container, sat brown bone shaped biscuits. The shape reminded you of something more sinister but for Goober you'd endure the spine chill it gave you. Popping the container open, you fished two treats from it and threw them behind you. You heard Goober scramble about to get the biscuits that clattered to the ground. You were a bit too emotionally tired to hold the biscuits above your head and see him stand on his hind legs trying to get at them.

Shutting the cabinets, you turned, watching Goobers butt swing back and forth with the inertia of his tail. The soft crunching of dog teeth on the treat filled the room. Sighing contently, you stood, taser hanging from your freehand. Reminding you that you weren't safe even in your own home. 

You were going to leave the kitchen to throw your body on the couch but your eyes met with your full trashcan. Still sitting atop all of the other junk was the bottle with the stomach churning note. You wanted rid of it.

It was an eyesore, an ugly reminder that you couldn't escape for the time being. Might as well miss your neighbors pushing past each other to rid themselves of their objectively more questionable trash. Maybe throwing the masked fucks note in the garbage twice would be cathartic. 

Looking down to Goober as he munched away, you began to bunch up the ends of the trash bag. It took some struggling and cursing from you but you were able to tie a good enough knot at the top of the white plastic. Trash bag dangling away at arms length in one hand, you set the taser on the counter partially to clumsily pick up your keys. You almost said 'be right back' to Goober but you remembered what you'd said to Henry over the phrase, " _Famous last words."_

The second you heard the click of your lock, you shoved your keys back into your pocket. 

Outside for the second time today, the air felt felt less cold. Either it was the rising sun warming up the earth or you earlier exposure to the cool temperatures. Either way, you still felt a pit in your stomach as you walked along the front of the concrete complex. You told yourself that you were fine. This was just a super quick trip down a dark alleyway when you knew a gang of smelly murder men were coming for you. Nothing would go wrong. Even if anything did, you had a fucking taser and a body filled with spite. 

It took you jumping on the balls of your feet and a lot of internal hyping yourself up to run into the alleyway. The set of metal dumpsters that everyone dumped their garbage in was all the way at the back. Sprinting, trash bag bounding along with your movement, you passed the open mouths of other open alleyways. You'd never been down them to explore, no need to in the past and this town wasn't the safest. The air of the alley was stagnant and thick, weighing heavy on your flesh. You wanted out the second your sneakers hit the damp, dark pavement.

The massive black lid was propped up against the back wall. A smile graced your features, you'd be out the dank alley soon. You just had to get within throwing distance of the trashcan, let the bag fly and run home. It was a simple enough task to run down the ally, your hitching breaths reverberating off of the moist walls. The ally way was always damp somehow, it was as unnerving as it was ridiculous. 

Skidding to a stop, you reared your arm back to throw the heavy white bag into the bin. The weight of the bag was suddenly gone from your hand.

_**Fssshhh! Thwunk!**_

Looking to your arm that was just holding a very big bag of garbage, you saw your hand holding the top knot but nothing below. The bag of garbage had been severed from it and had fallen by your feet, some getting on your shoes and spraying a greasy liquid onto your shins. An object lay at the foot of the dumpster, shining dimly in the light of the rising sun. A piece of white plastic stretched across its blade.

You whipped around. Only a few meters away was him. A blue hood that barley hid his messy hair, orange googles that watched you in your nightmares and a metallic smile. The little fucker had cut your trash bag open by throwing a hatchet at it. He held up a gloved hand and waved a familiar wave, one finger curling into his palm at a time. 

You didn't open your mouth to banter with him. You turned to the nearest open alleyway and fucking booked it down the unfamiliar walkway.

You heard his footsteps approaching, they stopped a moment and something scraped against the ground before the sound picked back up again. His cackle was filled with a sick glee, "Wu-where are you guh-guh-going, (Y/n)?" The alley's walls reverberated his voice into a terrible echo. 

You didn't know how the twitching fuck got behind you. You only knew that he did without you noticing, which must have been a difficult feat for him, considering his mannerisms didn't make him the quietest one of the bunch.

What really mattered was how you were going to escape. You didn't know these alleys. The walls and passageways narrow and the turns sharp, if he wanted to throw a hatchet at you and you were in his range, you were totally dead. You had to hope that take the right turns or you'd be backed into a corner. You wouldn't give up if you were, but you knew there was a good chance of him slicing and dicing you to bits if he caught you. The thought made your legs weak and your heart soar dreadfully. You picked up the pace.

He could catch you anytime he wanted you realized, his footsteps were growing closer by the second. If he threw a hatchet, it'd hit for sure. You had to keep him entertained with something other then your mutilation. You opened your mouth to air some of your grievances, "Chasing me in a dark ally? Really?" You made a sharp turn, your shoes skidding on the damp concrete, "Isn't that a bit cliche?" You yelled the words over your shoulder, seeing the hatchet-wielding murder-hobo dart around the corner way sooner then you would have liked. He was only feet away.

"Like!" There was a terrified crack in your voice but you didn't know what else to do, "How about the park, ya'know? When I had my fucking attack dog?" You knew damn well Goober wasn't an attack dog but saying the phrase made you feel like you could strike some fear of the dog into the man behind you.

Rogers just lowly giggled, some of them being interrupted by the cracking of his bones, you could just imagine him throwing his shoulder back in the same repetitive motion. The sound was too familiar and you were starting to form a crackpot theory in your fear riddled brain. "I luh-like it better when it's jusss-just the two of us." These men really needed to learn when to flirt with a girl because it was not in a gross alley way when she was running for her life. 

Wind began whipping past you, forcing itself against your face and throwing your hair and dress back in a dramatic fashion. You hoped he couldn't see your ass. If he was going to chop you up, he doesn't get the privilege. 

"I like it better when you," You skidded around another corner blindly, you could see a metal trashcan up ahead, "Weren't around!"

You pushed yourself forward, taser free hand grabbing the side of the trashcan and tipping it over as you ran past it. You strained your ears to hear the crash of his body on the pavement. You only heard a grunt of effort and a thunderous ' _thump'._

"Aww, come on," His muffled voice called out, "I think yuh-you're a lot of ffuh-fun! Why don't you luh-like me?" His voice was mocking, he knew damn well why you hated his ass.

"Isn't it obvious?" You yelled, the anger taking over what little playfulness you had in your tone, "You're a dumb bitch!" You threw the playground insult at the man. He wanted you to bring up the fact that he fucking killed Jen. 

"Th-that all?" He was practically on top of you now. The front of his shoe grazed the back of yours, not enough to make you trip but enough to make you double your efforts of escape. He could grab you at anytime, pierce your back with the blade of his hatchet. You were not going to allow that. 

Your eyes fell onto a stay bag of trash a few feet away. "Not at all," There was a smile in your voice, " _You smell_ ," You threw your free hand down to grab the bag, _"So fucking,_ " The grab slowed you down, you could fell his breath on the back of your neck, " _bad!_ " You turned with a shout, the bags flimsy plastic quietly tearing open as it flew threw the air. 

The garbage made contact with his masked face, the bag exploding open. Off-color liquids that made your nose curl in disgust burst from the bag. Empty cans and rotten food mixed in between. You saw him stumble back a few steps, nearly falling on his ass with an annoyed grunt. He began running at you, slightly slower, as he tore the bag from his face. Splotches of dark spots littered his hoodie and a dark brown banana peel sat limply on his shoulder.

_"That wasn't very nice."_ He growled out the words, his chipper tone gone and replaced by one of malice. He was serious now, you fucked up, but you didn't think you could go any faster.

His footsteps were growing closer as you once again rounded a corner. Your hands pumping back and forth as you ran, your taser falling in and our of sight. There was nothing else that could help you, it was all you had. With a silent prayer to whatever God there was watching with voyeuristic glee, you flicked the taser on and held your index over the trigger. 

"If you thought that was bad!" You couldn't shut yourself up, you felt the need to talk. The oppressive fear should be choking you out, making you unable to speak but it just seemed to egg you on. "Then try this on for size, rat boy!" You dug a heel into the ground, sliding to a stop as you whipped around, dress spinning around your form in a flowing arc. You jutted the taser forward, pressing on the trigger the second you forced your arm out. 

Rogers practically ran into the thing. As he ran, he'd leaned down, using what little body weight he had to push himself forward. The tasers prongs found his adam's apple, trapped it between them and buzzing loudly with electricity.

_**Tzzzzt-Tzzzzt-Tzzzt**_

The loud rattling of the taser filled the air as it vibrated harshly in your hand. Rogers body seized all action as the electricity delivered directly to his throat, making his muscles convulse. The sound of his hand dropping his hatchet to the floor filled you with serotonin. 

" _You like that, huh you rat faced fuck?"_ You screamed, pressing the taser further into his skin. His limbs extended and retracted, his throat letting out an involuntary guttural growl of annoyance. 

His neck reared back, either through muscle contraction or one of his tics. The taser was no longer on his skin. You weren't going to wait for the freak to recover, you were going to turn tail and run.

Suddenly, a hand wrapped itself around the same wrist that held the taser. Yelping, you turned your head to see the man still violently twitching but seemingly unharmed. He hands may have been empty but he still had one hatchet lazily hanging in his belt loop. 

You hand was forced behind your back and you were shoved into the wall. The brick of the building digging into your cheek, you grunted through ground teeth. He snapped your wrist around, not breaking the bone but your muscles screamed at the action and forced your hand to release the taser. You screwed your eyes shut in agony and let out a pained scream. Feeling hot tears pricking at your eyes, your vision blurred from the oncoming tears or the fact your face was smashed into a brick wall. You couldn't tell. 

You kicked your feet backwards as hard as you could. They collided with his legs but didn't do him any harm.

 _"Quit it."_ He hissed through his mask, lifting you from the ground while still pressing you into the wall. His chest slammed into your back, caging you in between the horrible man and the damp wall. You still tied to kick at his legs but the close proximity didn't allow enough force to build enough strength for the kicks to mean anything.

He shifted behind you, you hoped it wasn't to grab his hatchet.

"Don't you fucking dare!" You cried out, wiggling your body back and forth. Doing your best to break free from his iron grip despite the pain in your arm. He didn't look it but he was strong. "I swear to God you better let me go or else! You ugly bastard!" You didn't know what he looked like but if he was a murderous psychopath, he had to be pretty ugly.

You heard something you couldn't describe before a hot breath was blown behind your ear as the man spoke, voice no longer muffled by his mask. _"Or what?"_ You could hear the smirk in his voice.

You did your best to get a good look at him, if you escaped maybe you could tell the police what he looked like. Despite the police proving to be incompetent. You mostly wanted to know how ugly the motherfucker was, to see the bastard that killed Jen.

"I will shove," You painfully turned your head, an ear pressing into the brick, "Both of my fists," When you couldn't turn your head anymore your eyes made the rest of the journey, "Up your urethra!"

This was the closest you'd even been to him. His eyes were still hidden behind the thick orange plastic, you could see his thick eyebrows, a tiny scar running through one of them. He had a button nose, not very fitting for a slasher but there it was. He had a familiar mischievous smile but there was something foreign and feral about it. On his right cheek was flesh that was parted and red, his teeth and gums to shining unnaturally through the ragged hole in his face.

"Wuh-will you now?" He said, jerking his head to the side.

_No fucking way._

His voice, his tics, his smile, his stubble, his scar where the brunette regular kept a fat bandage. Rogers was Toby.

Your mouth hung open at the realization, you didn't know how to respond.

"Why are you sssuh-so quiet? Talk tuh-to me." Toby chuckled, hot breath sticking to your skin. He'd been right under your nose the entire time. The motherfucker was masquerading as a coffee shop cutie. Your mind raced, abuzz with the thought of Toby. He always seemed to be staring at you, childishly looking away if you caught him. At the time, you thought it was an endearing quirk or that he didn't understand social cues but no. He was fucking stalking you.

Probably planning on the best ways to slice you up. He tricked you. You weren't fucking okay with that. You were going to kick this kid's ass. Shoes uselessly dangling in the air, you had no leverage, he was pressing his body weight into yours. You did have your free hand and a pocket full of keys.

"About what, _Toby_?" You hissed out his name like it was poison on your tongue, eyes looking into the circles of orange. The use of his name just made him smile even wider, good. You had to keep his eyes on you. 

"How wuh-would you like to die?" His voice was still low and rough, probably upset about the garbage and the grease stains that would be left in his ugly ass jacket. He shifted again and you could see his shoulder drop. The sound of fabric rustling and the groan of moving leather filled your ears. Your hand inched closer to your dress pocket, if he saw your hand you hoped he didn't know about the magic of dress pockets.

"Oh ahaha." Your brows knitted together as you saw the dull glint of his rusty hatchet enter your view. You knew he was going to take his sweet time with you but you wanted away from his as soon as possible. 

"I think I wah-wanna mess up your puh-pretty," Toby brought the hatchet to your face, idly tracing the blade against your cheek,"fuh-fucking face." With very little pressure, the hatchets blade sunk into your skin.

Cringing and hissing, your hand inched to the entrance of your dress pocket, a few stray tears making their way down your cheeks. "Pretty huh?" You growled, feeling hot beads of blood prick through the shallow cut,"Aren't you a charmer?" The feel of the soft fabric around your fingers was like an ethereal embrace, you continued, "Too bad, you're not really the kinda guy to bring home to Mom." Your fingers fumbled around silently as you let out a breathy laugh, looking to feel for the cold metal of your keys, "Actually, you seem the type that got bullied in high school and never get some. You got a total loser virgin vibe goin' on there, bud." You hissed out the petty observation that you just pulled out of your ass. Toby before you knew him as a psychopathic, blood-lust filled murderer, had more of a cute boy-next-door vibe. Diamond in the rough but a good guy underneath. Now he had same vibe as a sewer rat. 

"I duh-don't remember high ssssch-school." He informed you flatly, as if that was common knowledge. His grip on your captured arm tightened and he further pushed you into the brick, a pained gasp leaving your lips. The hatchet dug further into your cheek, you must have struck a nerve. Maybe he was lying about not remembering.

"God," You couldn't help but think to the murder, to Jen, to the fight, "I wish that was me." You felt the uneven edges of your keys. You began to wrap your fingers around them, letting the keys snake between your fingers.

He leaned closer, you cringed at the proximity of your faces, his nose prodding into your cheek lightly, he smiled at your discomfort. A toothy, boyish grin that made your stomach churn. Disgusting little rat man. You began to pull the keys from your pocket, your fist a ball of flesh and metal. "You're sch-scared, aren't you?" He hissed out a horrible whisper, tinged with a sadistic delight that made blood run cold. You were horrified of him but you hated him so much more then you were scared of him. He killed Jen. He killed Dan. He could rot in the fiery pits of hell for all you cared. "It's puh-pathetic how much you tuh-try to hide it." His words cut through you, he saw past your weak charade. His voice was an amused drawl, he was happy with himself.

You were done with this. Done with the situation. Done with the compromising position. Done with Toby.

You were done with inching your hand towards your freedom. It was time to act. 

Your key wielding fist shot from your pocket, swinging behind your head as hard as you possibly could," _Whatever virgin!"_

He shouldn't have made the whereabouts of his head and neck so known to you, a final girl backed into a corner, more accurately, pressed against a wall. Your fist flew into his throat, your adrenaline fueled hysterical strength forcing the uneven edges of the keys deep into his flesh. His skin was like a hidden, fleshy lock, your keys sinking perfectly into it. You twisted your arm with a screaming growl, bearing your teeth. The keys twisted in his flesh, three semi circle gashes opening, letting thick streams of blood flow free.

The hand that held your wrist behind your back shot to his neck. You pulled the blood covered keys from his throat. You would have thought he would have fell over, crying out in agony. Instead he released you from his grip, a violent angry tic in his shoulder making him drop the hatchet that was in your cheek to the ground. As it traveled down, it grazed your cheek, just barley opening a thin line below the thick crescent shape he'd carved. 

Your feet hit the pavement below, you could still feel your chest on his back. You bolted away from him. You didn't look back as you flew forward, eyes on the end of the ally way. You could see a faint red reflection of a blurry stop sign on a puddle of dubious origin up ahead. If you could just get there and turn the corner, you'd be home free. Kind of.

" _You're so fucking dead."_ Toby hissed behind you, two rattling metallic ' _shhink's_ reverberating off of the ally walls. He had his hatchets and he was fucking pissed. He had even powered through getting three keys to the neck like it didn't even hurt. 

You didn't respond, too proud of your last words to him. If you were going to die right now, you'd prefer your last words to be 'whatever virgin' instead of a half-baked, less funny retort. You wanted your concentration on the last turn of the ally way, leading to a momentary respite. Hopefully.

In long, bounding strides, you sprinted ahead. Dress billowing backward and weightlessly flowing behind you. Something flew at you from behind. There was a soft ' _fwump'_ as the something whizzed past your side, slicing through your dress. Opening a hole in the side of your garment. You couldn't tell if he missed your body or did it intentionally. 

You really wanted to keep your mouth shut but the fact that he tore your clothing made you a bit pissed off, "Really asshole?" You yelled, running past the hatchet he'd thrown, a strip of fabric still on its blade. "This cost me thirty fucking bucks!" Nice clothes didn't come cheap and huge tear in the side of your dress wasn't exactly in season at the moment.

_"And that,_ " He hissed, voice once again muffled, referring to the fact that you stabbed him with your keys, " _is guh-going to cost you your ffffuh-fucking life!"_ That was a pretty good comeback you had to bitterly admit. However, you weren't going to validate him like you had that night.

The corner was close, you could see a soft light emitting from the corner, not being overshadowed by buildings that towered above. You pushed yourself even harder forward, weak legs screaming, trying your best to not let your limp hinder you. You threw your arms ahead of you and behind you in a rhythmic fashion, heaving as you moved. 

He must have stopped to grab the hatchet that was laying on the ground as when you turned the corner, he was a good bit behind you. Turning your face forward. Your eyes were filled with the sun's soft morning light. You let out a grunt, snarling as your eyes adjusted. You kept moving, you weren't going to take your chances and slow down just because you were in a more public setting. It was still early in the morning and there was only the occasional car parked on the curb in front of dimly lit storefronts.

You had no fucking idea where you were. You kept running until your legs gave out on you, which was probably a bit less than ten minutes after bursting forth from the ally. You tumbled to the ground, scraping your hands and knees against the rough sidewalk. You threw your head over your shoulder to check if Toby was still after you but you saw nothing but the torn dress on your sweaty body and an empty sidewalk. You greedily gasped in as much air as you could while slowly stumbling to your feet. You'd slow down but you wouldn't stop moving. There was no fucking way you'd let Toby catch you. 

They knew where you lived, they knew about your days off, they knew where you took out your trash. That was all pretty bad but you knew what one of them looked like. That was a fat advantage in your corner. You'd do all you could to not die without going down swinging but if you could help it, you'd get Toby's stupid fucking face plastered all over 'Americas Most Wanted'. The cocky dumb ass. 

Huffing while you looked anxiously over your shoulder, you put your bloody key clutching fist in your pocket. Staining the fabric a deep red where your touched. You let the keys fall limply into your pocket, jingling as you moved them away from your phone. You pulled your phone from your pocket, touchscreen being smeared with the semi-dry blood on your thumb as you typed in your pass code. Home couldn't be too far, Google maps would lead the way home. You just hoped one of them wasn't waiting for you.

Typing in your address with your shaky thumb, a dull roaring sound began to fill the street. A motorcycle. Turning your head over your shoulder, a figure rode around the corner, disregarding the stop sign at the corner. Squinting, you could make out a black helmet reflecting the images of the buildings ahead off of its visor. Whoever it was, turned their head towards you, a low shiver going down your spine. Unsurprisingly, you felt some fear around masks and people with their faces covered, especially after being chased by a crazy rat-boy. You looked like mild hell you reminded yourself, he wasn't staring because he wanted to kill you. Not completely fucked up looking; but someone with hair sticking every which way, a fist covered in blood, a torn dress, and a cut cheek, was not a common sight to see in the morning. You bet you looked like you were on crack. 

You turned away from the biker, you had better things to do then stare at the large figure. You began to walk on ahead, face down turned to your phones screen. Your apartment complex was just a few blocks away around a few odd twists and turns. Not a long walk at all.

The bikes purring engine quieted as it's rider slowed the vehicle and pulled close to the curb. Putting a steal-toed boot on the sidewalk to balance himself, the man turned his shielded face to you. He had a stocky body, donning a torn leather jacket, you could see your shocked expression in his polarized visor. He reminded you of two people. Hoodie with his dark masked face, his towering body built and holding a hunting rifle to your head, and Brian with his leather jacket and motorcycle sweetly stuffing his mouth with pancakes. 

You took a step back, unsure. Toby turned out to Rogers. Anybody is a suspect. Nothing felt safe. 

"Are you okay?" It was Brian, not Hoodie. Brian was a good guy, he was sweet and fun. Hoodie tried to shoot you in the head in the back of a pickup truck. His head was tilted at you in slight concern, and you could imagine his thick brows tightly knit underneath the face shield.

"Uhm." You had to come up with a lie, it wasn't like you could tell him about your circumstances. If you told him, you feared those sick fucks would kill an innocent man, they had to be watching you. "Drug deal?" Your lie came out more as a question, a suggestion of a scenario that definitely did not happen, "Gone wrong, ahaha." You rubbed the back of your neck with your freehand.

The bloodied hand that held your phone shoved itself into your dress pocket. In the moment, you told him the most unconvincing lie you possibly could. You blamed your paranoia fueled fuzzy mind, and the fact that his helmet reminded you of that stupid fabric frown.

"You're on drugs?" You could practically hear his raised brows and general disbelief.

"Yes!" You barked out way too enthusiastically, nodding your head fervently, "I'm addicted to uh," Your mind went blank, "Weed!" You shouted out the first drug you knew of and then immediately smacked yourself internally, you can't get addicted to weed like other drugs. Weed doesn't make you show up on the city streets at eight in the morning, slightly bloody. "No!" You had to change it up, "Cocaine!" It was a much harsher drug and if you were truly addicted you'd look a lot worse for wear. "I'm addicted to cocaine and the drug deal went bad!" You rushed the lie from your lips, a cringe forcing its way onto your face that you couldn't hold back.

You just told this hot gut who you saw everyday at work that you were addicted to cocaine. What a wonderful morning.

"Do you need a ride to the hospital?" His helmet tilted to the side again. The suggestion had the undertone of a joke, like he was holding back a chuckle. You hoped that he was just incredibly insensitive to your supposed addiction and thought it was funny. You think you'd die of embarrassment if he knew you were lying. 

Who even lies about being addicted to coke? Dead women walking, that's who. But Brian didn't know that.

"No!" You weren't hurt that bad, "I'm just gonna go home," You kicked a can that lay on the sidewalk beside your feet, "I'm real sad," You swung your arm across you chest unconvincingly, "That I didn't get my drugs." Part of you wanted to drop dead from embarrassment. You wanted to curl up into a ball and cry for three hours.

Brian scooted forward on the seat of his motorcycle, patting the free area behind him, "Get on. I'll take you home." It sounded more like a command then a suggestion. You weren't going to decline a free ride though, a fast ride away from Toby and to possibly safety.

"Uh, alright." You padded over to him, having to grab the bike for stability as you stepped a leg over it. 

"Hold onto me." Again, sounding like a command rather than a suggestion for your own safety. 

You put your hands on his side, trying not to lean into him too much. He was an acquaintance who you just falsely admitted to being an addict to, you didn't think he was very keen to having you touch him. 

You felt his calloused hands move atop yours and shift them around his chest, pulling you forward, "Come on," He urged lowly. "Wouldn't want you falling off now."

Your chest pressed against his back and you felt a chuckle reverberate through his body as he laughed at your awkwardness. He, obviously, smelled like leather and something disgustingly familiar and metallic that made your stomach clench. 

"Yeah, haha!" You laughed trying not to feel sick, leaning away but still keeping your hands around his firm midsection, "Imagine falling off a moving vehicle that would hurt!"

Without warning, he kicked his foot away from the sidewalk, engine revving and the two of you were barreling down the empty street, the sudden start making you jolt awkwardly, your hands fisting in his jacket. Apparently he didn't want to talk, even if he did you weren't sure you'd be able to hear over the whipping wind and the anxious thumping of your heart. He stayed quiet and you tried not to lean into him too much, still feeling very awkward about the whole situation. 

Under the thick layer of awkward thoughts, you were thinking of Toby. You couldn't believe it was him still. You smacked yourself internally for not piecing together his incredibly obvious identity earlier. How many white boys were there with curly brown hair, Tourette's and a stutter? You didn't know the answer to that but it made you feel stupid nonetheless. You can't believe you let him believe that you were giving him a free meal with Brian last night.

Brian.

You looked up at the man in front of you, all you could see was short dirty blond hair poking out from under the helmet, but your mind was moving a hundred miles an hour. Brian was sitting with Toby. Did Brian know about Toby? Was he in danger? Was he dangerous? Was Toby using him to blend in? Toby did as he said. Toby obeyed what Brian said despite being an incredibly strong, terrifying, murderer. You didn't feel safe before on the empty sidewalk but now you felt less safe on the back of Brian's motorcycle where your only form of escape would be to jump off the back and tumble down the road, just like you watched Hoodie do that fateful night. 

You had no proof other then a bad feeling in your gut. You were definitely paranoid and hyper vigilant as well, you could be wrong. You didn't know to trust your instincts or to keep doubting yourself.

Before you knew it, the motorcycle slowed to a stop in front of your apartment complex. "Thanks." You emptily said, hastily unwrapping your arms around him like his torso had burned you. Stepping off the bike, you began to fall, your legs still shaky from your relaxing morning run for your life, face making a one way trip to the curb. A hand grabbed your wrist. A tight grip, just like the one that held you down in that pickup. You were just being paranoid, it couldn't be. You gulped. 

He pulled you up, steadying you as you looked at him dumbly. His touch lingered too long for what you'd liked. Your suspicion making every little touch feel like fire on your skin. 

"Stay safe." Brian simply stated, muffled through his black helmet. Your expression of mild shock and terror reflecting back at you. Seeing it, you fixed it to one of indifference the best you could.

"Thanks. Have a good day." You echoed the sentiments from Masky. Sending a horrible chill down your spine. You were outside but you felt like walls were closing in on you, like lions were going to pounce on you at any second.

_"You too."_ Brian just said that as a polite sentiment. He didn't mean to sound so sinister. 

Without any fanfare, he tore the bike away from the curb. Driving off without looking back at you. You stood slack-jawed watching him disappear. 

You never told him where you lived.


	13. 12 - Spine Chill

Life is complex sometimes. Situations and relationships are like boat-knots that you don't know how to untie or even how they got like that in the first place but here you were. Leaving you definitely not safe home to go to a definitely not safe diner. You didn't want to go at all. The chance of seeing Toby masquerading as a normal human being instead of a murderous mole rat wasn't your idea of fun.

Then there's Brian. You were still debating if he was a poor bystander who Toby has under his thumb or if he's one of them. On one hand he helped you get some distance on Toby who was no longer pursuing you or if he was you didn't see him. On the other if they wanted to 'play' with you they'd have one or more of them try to seem like the good guy. Get close to you then stab you in the back. You'd seen Frozen, you knew the drill.

Today wasn't your day, going to work where one definitely psycho murderer awaited you and another was under heavy suspicion. There was also a huge window of opportunity that had opened for you. If Brian turned out to be one of them, then you knew two of their faces. You doubted the local police could be of any aid, you literally confessed to murder and they let you go the next morning. You needed harder evidence to go to the local police or maybe you could go back to Tuscaloosa. They were directly involved in the cabin murders, they were the ones who somewhat cared about catching these sick fucks. You thought, if you could get to them directly and give them the description of two of the murderers, saying the trauma blocked out the memories of their faces. They'd be fucked!

You'd be disappointed if Brian was one of them, you and Sully called him daddy. Not a good feeling to call someone who tried to blow your brains out daddy. However, it'd be rewarding to get two of the men who killed those you grew up with either behind bars or so sought after they could never go out in public again. 

Waiting for Sully on the sidewalk, you rubbed your hands on your upper arms. It was cold outside today and the chill that ran up and down your body whenever you'd look towards the alley Toby chased you down wasn't helping. Every passerby had you clenching up and holding your breath. Everyone was a suspect. 

Sully's car rolled into view and soon enough, pulled into the curb. Again, a perfect parallel park, and they say gay people can't drive. Sully made you worry, what if they targeted him? If they did it'd be all your fault. That's why you felt the urge to escape Corydon as fast as possible. You didn't want to leave the life you built after that night behind but you had to; for Sully.

When you both met you said you liked his (favorite band) pins that he had pushed into his jacket that day. He said that you had taste and more then three working brain cells. Then it was history. Three years you'd been co-workers. Three years of him pointing out local hotties and either agreeing or making fun of his taste in men. You never told him about Isaac but whenever you had breakdowns over that night, he'd hold you and tell you it was okay without asking questions. It went both ways, when his Mom got to be too much and he'd have a cry in the diners freezer, you'd come and sit with him. Eating away at the stored ice cream. Your adult life hadn't been an easy one or very good one but Sully was always there to make it better and you suspected he felt the same.

"Hey!" He chirped, looking at the passing cars as you opened the passenger seat. 

"Morning." You grumbled. You had spent all of yesterday locked in your apartment but all you did was pace up and down your living space with a knife, looking for intruders. You didn't sleep very well. 

"Whoa!" Sully looked to you, mouth open at your rough appearance.

The cut on your cheek wasn't deep enough to warrant stitches but it was deep enough to not heal over the period of roughly two days. The smaller line of cut flesh below had begun to heal nicely but it was still a bright pink tender line of healing flesh. The gash on your cheek had been covered up by bandages, not the nice thick kind you get for a wound at a hospital. No, you were too poor for that shit. It was the cheapest band aids money could buy when you'd first moved into the apartment. They were an electric blue with little game controllers on them and bright red text that said things like,' _Epic Win', '_ _Trolololol',_ or,' _Cringe! Loser!'_ They made you feel like a child but you'd rather walk around with an embarrassing line of bandages on your cheek over Toby being able to see the damage he'd done. 

"You look," Sully paused a moment to pick a phrase that wouldn't hurt your feelings, "Like you haven't slept." Which was true. "And what happened," He looked away to pull the car from the curb, "To your face?" There was obvious distress in his voice, it hurt your heart to know that it was your fault he sounded the way he did.

You did look like shit, but at least your outfit was cute. Granted, anything you wore was cute. This morning in a sleepy haze you threw together an outfit that somewhat worked. Putting together an outfit made you feel more in control of your current downward spiral. You donned black leggings, a cropped blue jean jacket, and a (F/c) t-shirt with a cute chuck-e-cheese graphic that read below the cute cartoon ' _Jerking off is cool and fun! Do what you want! God is fake!'_ You could say you were a fashion icon.

You had to lie. Mostly for his sake, he'd die of worry if he knew the truth and if he didn't, you didn't doubt for a second the men would kill him themselves.

"Oh!" You threw your voice up an octave, trying to sound like you weren't the physical embodiment of a train wreck, "I stayed up all last night watching all of the High School Musical movies!" No you had not and you didn't remember a single fucking thing about the movies or how many of them there were. "I tripped over my own big ass feet yesterday and fell into my counter, got myself real good, huh?" You tried to sound like you were telling a mildly interesting story and not lying about the fact that you'd been pretty much jumped by the man who murdered your friends. 

At the stop sign, Sully mulled over you a few moments before looking back to the road, "Damn, you must'a fallen real hard." He believed you. He was always quick to trust. Something that always bothered you was he was willing to believe any truth you gave to him. It was a big problem when it came to the men he dated, they'd always play him and he'd never see it comin'. 

"Ah yeah," You rubbed your cheek, the wound under the bandages dully throbbing, "It's all good though." You took your hand away and let it rest on your lap. "How are you?" You didn't want to talk about yourself anymore, you just wanted to listen to him wistfully talk about something important to him.

"Well!" As he drove on the cars ambiance sent you into a relaxed state, "Last night Mom and I," You were so tired, and Sully's voice was so soothing, "Were watching Dance Mom's and-" Sully's words mixed and melted together as your eyelids grew heavy.

_He was standing only a few feet away, too close for comfort. His porcelain mask staring down at you, you couldn't see his eyes through the inky blackness, but you knew they were drilling holes into you. Watching you at all times._

_You didn't know what his face looked like. If you could just reach for his mask and lift the hard barrier between you two, you'd know all of their faces, their names. You could go to the police and fuck them all over. What a sweet feeling it'd be to checkmate their dumb asses._

_You reached out a hand, fingers extending as far as they could. You had to know. For justice, for revenge, for yourself._

_You grabbed the side of his mask and remained unmoving. The only sound coming from him was his muffled heavy breathing. It was a simple sound but it filled you with dread._

_Clutching the cold porcelain, you threw your hand up, his mask flying up and away from his face. You could see him now, his face._

_There was nothing but black and white static buzzing like a million bees._

"-/n)? (Y/n)?" Sully's soft hand caressed your cheek, you fluttered your eyelids open and saw the diner. The red glow of the Hot and Crusty diner's blinking florescent sign dimly shining through the drops of rain. When had it started to rain?

You hummed, unbuckling your seat belt,"Sorry," You opened your jaw and let out a yawn, "I must have fell asleep." You stretched you arms as much as you could in the cars confined space.

"It's alright!" Sully's brows suggested concern but his easy smile suggested amusement, "High School Musical can really take it outta ya!" He turned away, taking his hand with him. You and him were never family or ever romantically involved but he always had a tender and loving touch that even now didn't send you into a panic. 

There was a soft hum of pitter-patters on the cars roof as the rain began to more heavily pour from the grey sky above. "We should get inside." You idly observed. The sky held a slight purple hue, that usually meant an incoming thunderstorm. The diner would be pretty empty today aside from the regulars who didn't give a shit about what the weather had to say, if they wanted their half-off pancakes they were going to get their half-off pancakes.

Sully didn't have an umbrella in the car so you both would have to get a bit wet. He'd pulled closer to the entrance then usual today but still, your backs were destined to get at least a little damp. You both opened your car doors, first making sure you had all of your belongings in your pockets. Then you both jumped from the car, slamming the doors shut behind you. You felt like a kid for a moment, running through the rain, your best friend by your side. You even let out a laugh.

Giggling like you were younger and carefree felt like a healing experience. Until You held the door open for Sully and the scent of stale coffee and reality hit your nose harder then the rain hitting your skin. 

With a muttered, "Thanks!" Sully jogged inside, you swung yourself into the building. It was dimmer then usual with less natural light illuminating the diner. The lights had always been buggy, some hardly working while some didn't ever turn on. 

"Took you guys long enough." Emile droned from behind the cash register, leaning his head on his cheek. 

"Sorry we're a little late! Traffic got rough." Sully explained casually, clocking you both in and grabbing your work gear. You were unaware of the traffic and you felt bad dosing off on Sully so easily. He was very passionate about Dance Moms. 

"Well," Emile huffed, blowing hair out of his face, "We're a little understaffed today."

Obviously, it was just the three of you and you think you saw April going into the kitchen. There wasn't a doubt in your mind there were hardly any chefs in the kitchen, on days like this more then half of the kitchen staff would call in sick. You didn't see many customers like you usually would in the morning. Only a small spaced out handful, it was going to be an easy day. If Toby wasn't in a booth at the back of the diner, his dimly lit face smiling at you. He did his signature finger curling wave.

You both stared at one another from across the diner, the only thing dividing you two were chairs and tables. You weren't going to let the others near him. As much as you didn't want to be anywhere near him, you weren't going to leave your coworkers out to dry with the little asshole. You'd take his order as a pseudo self sacrifice. He was likely to not kill you with so many others around. There may have been no security cameras but if anyone got away his face would be all over the news. He had to be smarter then he let on. 

"What's with the stare down?" Emile murmured to Sully as he tied his apron behind his back.

"I think they're into each other." Sully gossiped, covering his mouth dramatically; his words made you sick to your stomach. You weren't into the little twit, you stabbed him in the neck the other day. Your feelings on him were very clear.

Sully didn't know that.

"It's not like that." You sourly defended, taking the apron Sully passed to you.

You didn't know what else to say. You didn't want Sully to become interested in the development of your supposed crush on Toby but you also didn't want him to become suspicious of your deep disdain for the man. He was yours to deal with, and if you could help it, you would keep the two miles away from one another. Preferably with Toby in jail. 

"Mhmm." Emile hummed, eyeing you from behind his fringe."Just don't make out in the storage closet," Emile turned an accusatory gaze to Sully, "For my sanity."

You weren't working that day but a customer had spilled something nasty on the floor and Emile was tasked to clean it up. He walked in on Sully and a customer getting handsy. 

"I'm not interested." You deadpanned, holding in a snarl as you stared down the brunette. You hoped he couldn't hear your hushed conversation.

"And Sully isn't the biggest man-whore this side of the tri-state." Emile smugly smiled as you tucked a small stack of menus under your arm.

"Hurtful!" Sully playfully slapped Emile's arm. 

You were done with the conversation so you simply walked away from it. You came across Brian's table first, him sitting relaxed in his booth. You didn't want to say the line for him to finish. He was high on your suspect list, you didn't feel like doing casual banter with him. You still questioned yourself on putting someone so kind and helpful on the list but doubting yourself only got you pinned to a damp ally wall because you didn't immediately recognize Toby. 

With narrowed eyes and lips pulled into a thin line, you asked, "What can I get for you?" You softened your tone, if Brian wasn't one of them then you deadpanning the question at him would be considered quite rude. Maybe acting a little mindless will further sell your earlier lie of being on drugs. Maybe he'd just think you were out of sorts because of withdrawal symptoms.

Looking up at you with a gaze of either confused surprise or partially hidden amusement, Brian began, "Just the usual, thank you." Murderer or not, he understood that you did not want to talk to him in the slightest. Maybe he was letting things play out that way to further make you believe he was just a nice, respectful guy. Maybe his intent gaze on your face wasn't to scan you for reactions but to look at your stupid band-aids.

"Got it." You mumbled, turning from him and scribbling a note for a tall stack down. Toby was the only other customer nearby. You were sure April and Sully were taking care of the few other souls who came out despite the impending storm. 

The white noise of the rain picked up in volume the harder it came down. It seemed to be picking up by the second, overshadowing your footsteps. 

"What do you fucking want?" You slapped a menu on the table with a fake yet disgusted smile. You spoke lowly so your coworkers couldn't hear the pure malice dripping from your voice. You really hated this kid's guts. 

"Whu-why are you being sssuh-so rude to a customer-mer?" Toby tilted his head, leaning his uncovered cheek onto a gloved hand. His smile crinkling the bandage on his cheek, you wanted to rip it off and punch his fucked up face.

"Cut the shit you little fucking gutter rat." You hissed, you were too confident in your environment that he wouldn't kill you right here right now. 

"Do I need to ah-ask for the muh-manager again?" The bags under his eyes crinkled upwards with delight as he spoke.

"Managers not here." You were tempted to grab the dull butter knife of the table and sink it into one of his eyes. You wouldn't, you were in public, with normal people about. He wanted you to keep your little interaction the other day hush-hush. You'll keep it that way but also ignore your survival instincts that screamed be nice to the man, maybe he'll leave you alone. Niceties wouldn't get Jen back, niceties wouldn't save your life. If you were going to die, you were going to do it with dignity and by being a mean bitch to the motherfuckers who deserved it.

"What do you want?" To onlookers you could be referring to the menu but between the both of you, it was clear you were asking why he waltzed back into your life wielding hatchets. 

"Oh ya'know!" He rolled his shoulders back a few times, giving you a disgusting smile that could be seen as charming, "I just wanna have some fun!" He chirped earnestly, and it made your blood boil.

"You're disgusting you know that." You hissed accusingly at him, lowering yourself down to his eye level. If Sully or Emile looked over they'd definitely think something was up. You clicked your tongue at his response which was giggling into his hand, "You can have your fun in the fucking parking lot because I'm forever banning your ass." You jerked your face towards the door, it was darker outside and rain was coming down hard. The though of him being soaked to the bone and shivering made you a little happy. He deserved it.

Toby curled the hand at his mouth into a fist and wheezed barley contained laughs into it, eyes still locked onto you, "Yuh-you're going to buh-ban me for life-fuh?" His shoulders obnoxiously bounced with his laughter. Suddenly, he ceased all of his joyous movement and becoming eerily still, his voice dropping, "I'd like to see you try." His lack of tics or stutter, laced in a seriously mocking warning sent chills down your spine. 

"All I need to do is put your name on a list." You knew he was daring you to try and drag him out physically but you weren't going to take the bait. You knew that twink was stronger than you.

"You're not going to duh-do that," His eyes had a sharp gleam to them,"Firstly, it wuh-wont work. Secondly, if you do, I'll gut your luh-little buddy over there." He lazily pointed his free hand to a spot somewhere behind your shoulder. You turned on impulse, you saw the ginger leaning against Emile's post. Hiding a smile behind a menu as the two teens looked at you and Toby. The proximity of you both, the intense hushed conversation, it must have looked delightfully scandalous to them.

You pushed yourself away from Toby's table, looking back to him. "Fine. You can stay." It sounded like you were in control of whether he stayed of not, but the truth you were both fully aware that he was in charge. It was a deep wound to your pride but you'd take it in stride as much as possible, for Sully.

Toby pulled his head away from his hand, straightening himself up. Grimacing a few times and fluttering his lashes open and closed over and over. "I'll have a water," He started with a smile, "No ice." 

You spit in his drink and you were proud of it. He was trying to mind fuck you with the no ice line, make you think he was going to toy with you all shift. You slammed the drink down silently onto his table. Surprisingly, he didn't ask for more ice. When you turned from him though, his foot shot out from under the table, catching your ankle. 

You hit the ground with an,"Oof!" You landed on your hands and forearms, jean jacket slightly riding up your arms. You could see the deep brown bruise his grip had left on you the other day. It was a bitter reminder you no longer had your taser but a reminder you could defend yourself with just your keys. 

You glared at him, a few strands of (h/c) hair falling into your face. He looked overjoyed at your look of pure unadulterated hatred. He looked like a kid in a candy store. A psychotic child who clogged all the toilets, spit on the candy, stabbed the cashier, and called you a bitch. 

"You oh-okay there, (Y/n)?" He giggled childishly into his hand.

"Suck a dick." You hissed at the man-child, bringing yourself up from the floor. Luckily you didn't have any other orders on you to spill onto the floor. It reminded you of how you hadn't seen Doug in a few days, not giving out a raw egg to a crackhead every other day was foreign. You wondered what had him so busy but you also hoped he wasn't dead in an alleyway. Either from overdose or getting knifed in the back.

Toby continued to snicker, you could overhear the dreadful noise over the rain pitter-pattering on the windows. Huffing a few stray hairs from your face as you stood to your full height. Bending over to snatch the few menus you'd been carrying with you.

As you stood back up again, you made eye contact with Brian. It wasn't odd if he wasn't on your suspect list for a person who wanted your insides on the outside. His gaze used to feel easy and playful now it felt straight up predatory. You still weren't completely sure, you couldn't go accusing an innocent man of being a murderer to the police. You just had to keep your eyes peels for a dead give away. 

The bell that sat above the diners entrance chimed dully, accompanying the sound of rain growing exponentially louder before being muffled again. You turned your eyes from Brian and to Tim who stood in the door, soaked to the bone. The bright red of his flannel darkened with the wetness, nearly blending in with the black checkers. You could see he was panting, chest softly rising and falling. His hair was wet and disheveled.

You herd Emile lowly tell him to sit wherever. Sully was on his break, sitting at a table across the diner twiddling on his phone. April had gone into the kitchen to get another customers order. It was up to you to look after the man.

You began padding over to the wet man, who sat himself at a table far away from anybody else. That was a great comfort to you being further from the two other men who set you on edge. With a silent thank you, you began,"The usual for you, Tim?" You used his name with a friendly smile. 

"Yup." He drummed his fingers on the table, internally you wished he wouldn't do that. Masky did that whenever you didn't respond for too long, that or knocking; and both sent your brain into slight dreary panic. Like you were back in your room clutching your taser and trying not to drift off.

"Got it." You wanted to feel normal, so you asked a question for yourself and out of mild concern, "Are you alright?" You didn't ask how in hell he wasn't shivering.

Tim, looking mildly surprised, looked down at his soaked clothing, "Aha, yeah." He looked back to you with a lazy half-lidded gaze, "Just had some work to do." He said he was a hunter didn't he? "Took longer then usual," He tilted his head slightly, giving you an uneven smile, "Were you expecting me?" 

You opened and closed your mouth, not knowing how to respond. "I uh," You averted your gaze, not used to being put on the spot like that, "Just concerned about a valued customer, that's all." You quickly regained your footing with a playful smile. A part of you was losing it, did this hot dude just flirt with you? Also, he was kind of creepy and you were a dead woman walking, so the chances of you finding love were slim to none. 

Humming with a smug smile, Tim opened his mouth to shoot back a retort.

"(Y/n)!" Sully yelled your name and you whipped around on your heels.

"What's wrong?" You could hear the worry in his voice and there was terror written across his face. 

"It's my Mom," He was untying his apron, his fingers shaking, "She's hurt real bad." You could tell by the urgency in his voice that this was no time for details. "She's been hospitalized. I'm going to see her." That's not good for a few reasons. Firstly, Sully's Mother was already sickly enough, being hospitalized could mean death for her. Secondly, employees were allowed to leave for emergencies like this and you weren't the woman's kin like Sully. "Right now. Are you going to be good finding a ride?" Of course he was concerned for you getting a ride home other then running out and going to his Mom already. 

"Yea! Just go see your Mom!" You urged. You could hitch a ride with Emile, he'd make you listen to his weird music and talk about the taxidermy bat that hung from the stem of his rear view mirror. You'd take riding with Emile over Sully not seeing his Mom before it was too late. Hopefully it was a minor fall and she'd be up and at 'em in no time. 

"See you!" Shoving his phone into his pocket, he sent you a wave and rushed out of the entrance. 

Your shoulders slacked, great. Riding with Emile meant going home way later in the day as his shift went to closing. You'd worked closing before but you always preferred not to. The Hot and Crusty diner always stayed open until around ten. Then you'd always have to wait for the last customers to leave before you could clean up. It was always a pain.

"Excuse me?" You felt Tim tap on the same wrist that had been bruised the other day. You tried your best to not look pained and recoil too obviously.

Pulling your wrist away from his touch and folding it behind your back, giving him a faltering smile,"Yes?"

"I could drive you home." Tim suggested casually with a shrug of the shoulders. 

You didn't know how you felt about that. Tim seemed okay enough but you hardly knew the guy. Then again, if you stayed for Emile's shift then maybe Toby would harass you the entire time. Maybe he'd attack you both when everyone else left. Suddenly, the suggestion was a golden opportunity.

"Only if that's okay with you!" You didn't want to seem too eager,"My shift ends in a few hours and I don't want to keep you waiting." You knew damn well that this man sat in the diner for hours on end, doing God knows what. He had the time, you just wanted to come off as polite and not terrified for your life.

"Of course it is." In your eyes, Tim was like a God. You hoped the kind man had not taken notice of your shirt. If he did, he didn't say anything.

The end of the shift came sooner then you thought it would. You spent most of the shift staring Toby down from as far away as possible. Occasionally he'd stand from his seat, do a motion like he was going to run for you, just to stop and laugh whenever you'd jump, falling on your ass. Of course you pettily retaliated by spitting in his food when no one was looking. You couldn't hurt him, being that doing bodily hard to a customer is illegal. There's also the curious case of his neck being completely fine. The last time he caught you staring, he hooked a finger into his turtleneck, pulling it down to show his completely healed flesh. He had smiled at your slack-jawed expression. What were these people?

Either way, you were going home earlier then expected. Away from the demon child and the quiet eerily suspicious man who stared out the window and scribbled into a small notebook. Tim was so kind as to unlock the car doors before you both ran out into the rain. It'd only gotten worse as the day passed by.

He held the door open, "Ladies first." He said with an easy smile, the dim light making his hard features seem softer. 

"Why thank you." You smiled at the taller man, before you bolted towards the car he'd pointed out as his. It was a mini-van. It reminded you heavily of Baker family mini-van. Tim's footsteps behind you were heavy and loud. You knew there was no need to look over your shoulder to check if it was him or one of the men but you did anyway, out of instinct and your new fun fear of everything. When he noticed you looking back at him, he dropped an unreadable look he had and morphed his face into a friendly smile. 

Tearing the passenger door open, you threw yourself into the car. The car rocked as Tim joined you. The car absolutely wreaked of cigarette smoke. You did your best to not look displeased with the overpowering scent. He was driving you home, you were going to do your best to be as polite as possible. 

"Sorry if I get any of your stuff wet." You tried to make yourself as small as possible in the passenger seat, feeling a bit uncomfortable in an acquaintances car. Not wanting to overstay your welcome. 

"I've already got a lot of my stuff wet already." He jammed the keys in the ignition, you noticed the back of a wooden key chain hanging from the key ring. It was probably one of those charms that read off your name. "Don't worry about it." He threw an arm between your seats, turning his body as he backed out of the parking spot.

"Ah, alright." You idly responded as he stopped backing the car up. You pulled out your phone, glad it didn't get wet and turned on google maps. He approached the end of the parking lot, the roar of a motorcycle making you turn from your phone. As Tim pulled the mini-van to exit of the lot, waiting for a car to pass so he could move onto the street. Brian's helmeted face pulled up beside the mini-van. Behind him a smaller form sat lazily, a helmet on his head as well. You weren't aware that Brian had an extra helmet. Maybe it was too big or too small for you head. Either way, the smaller form waved a familiar wave at you before the duo rode off. They went the same direction as your apartment.

You were filled with dread. Either Toby was making Brian do things for him or Brian was one of them. The smiley faces Brian always left on his receipts always reminded you of that night, the smiley face drawn in the middle of condensation. 

Google maps read out the directions to your home. Tim took off in the direction of your apartment before it did. He probably saw your phone, nothing creepy about that.

"So," Tim drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, "You were staring at that kid a lot today." The statement cut through you, you were that obvious. 

"Uh," You didn't want to tell him, it could get him killed, "Yeah." You'd just bent the truth, it'd be more convincing then outright lying, "He's just a real creep." You could have sworn you heard Tim let an amused huff from his nose, "He's interested in my friend and I don't want him talking to my friend." He was interested in rearranging Sully's guts in the worse way possible. "So," You crossed your arms, "I've been watching him." You sounded much more convincing then the other days lie about cocaine. You were getting better at lying, whether that was good or bad you couldn't decide.

Tim nodded, google maps telling him where to go but again he took turn before the slowed system could tell him where to go, "Seems like a real piece of work, huh?" He was smiling. You supposed he just liked gossip, he didn't look the type.

"Ah," You looked down to your damp jean jacket, covering your bruised wrist, "Yeah." You spat bitterly. Tim rose his brows and looked to you over your way too intense tone. You had to play it off. "Got any tunes?" You eyed the radio that remained off.

"Oh uhh," He pressed the button with a ' _click_ ', "Sure."

A funky electronic sound began playing on the stereo, he didn't seem the type to like this sort of music. You knew the song. Dan played it all the time in high school. He looked like he was into classic rock but he loved electronic weird bullshit.

_A mask of my own face, I'd wear that, I'd wear that, I'd wear that mask of my own face, I'd wear that, I'd wear that_

 _"_ Wouldn't take you for the type to like more electronic stuff." You thought aloud, turning to the man. Bittersweet memories resurfacing of Dan, mostly bitter.

He just smiled,"This was a friends car before he handed it over to me. Always forget to take his mix tape outta the stereo." You were surprised, most modern cars didn't have cassette players like this one did.

_Id wear it to a hoedown, and I'd dance with all the bells, And none of them would know that I was secretly myself_

"Ahh," You were reminded of playing shitty mix tapes you and Jen made together in high school,"What kind of music do you like?" It'd be nice to get to know the man who so kindly offered to help you out.

_I'd rob my apartment and I wouldn't give a damn, I'd blame it on the person that nobody knows I am_

Tim hummed while glancing at you, bad habit while driving in a rainstorm, "I like a lot of the classics," He looked like the type, "Don't get to listen to music much, though."

_I look into my eye holes, what do I see? Look into my eye holes, what do you see? I look into my eye holes and what do I see?_

The road ahead was hardly viable, Tim driving way below the speed limit to be cautious. "That's sad." You didn't think to hold the comment back. Music was so soulful and healing, it totally sucks he can't listen to is very often. 

_A handsome motherfucker motherfucking looking back at me._

Once again glancing your way, he spoke, "It's not that bad." He ended it with an awkward laugh, it just made you feel even worse for him. He was becoming less of a kinda creepy hot guy and more of a sympathetic hot guy.

_A mask of my own face, I'd wear that,I'd wear that, I'd wear that mask of my own face, I'd wear that, I'd wear that_

"Well it won't kill ya," You thought back to your own situation a moment, how you were a dead woman walking, "To not listen to music but-" You thought to the weeks after Isaac's murder with an involuntary sigh. Looking to the rain ahead, like it'd produce the answers to your problems, like it'd bring back Jen and you could smooth things over and not have her die next to you on a bitter note. "It can help you through some tough situations." When you looked to him with an uneven smile, he was again staring at you which was a horrible driving habit. He quickly looked back to road, letting the music and rain fill the lull in conversation.

_I'd wear it on Thanksgiving and I'd laugh in the parade, at all the people hissing, knowing I'm the one they hate_

The song was upbeat but it brought you an extreme melancholy. You wondered if the others went to hell, if they were waiting for you. You wondered what kind of conversations you and Jen would have, if there even was an afterlife. If there was something for someone like you to look forward to. You wondered why that night happened, why did they kill everybody? Why did they care? Were you all at the wrong place at the wrong time? Was it truly a random act of violence?

_And at the big finale I would tear my face away, and smile as they grip their own and try to do the same_

 _"_ What'cha thinkin' about?" Tim's casual question pulled you from your thoughts. You hadn't noticed your gaze falling to your lap, your grip on your forearms tightening, the way your mouth screwed into a frown.

"OH!" You exclaimed, relaxing your muscles, "Nothing really," He was looking at you quizzically, your voice was cracking, "This song just reminds me of someone."

_I look into my eye holes and what do I see? Look into my eye holes, tell me what you see_

"Really?" He sounded somewhat interested, he was most likely looking to fill in the awkward lull of the conversation. "Who?"

You didn't know what to call Dan. He'd never been your friend but you knew him better then an acquaintance. Him saving your life, giving himself up, was the last thing you'd expect from him but he did it anyway. You had too many mixed feelings about a dead man. 

"Just," You hesitated a moment,"Someone I used to know." You blew out your noise, you wanted to go home and cry already. "He loved this song." You gave a halfhearted smile to the stereo.

_I look into my eye holes and what do I see? A handsome motherfucker motherfucking looking back at me_

"He must have been special to you." Tim voiced a thought, looking at the windshield wipers that whipped back and froth with a screeching groan.

_A mask of my own face, I'd wear that, I'd wear that, I'd wear that mask of my own face_

"Maybe he was." You felt yourself smiling sadly. You didn't know what he was to you, all you knew was that he saved your life that night at the cabin. He sacrificed himself so you and Jen could get away.

You let Jen die.

**"You've arrived at your destination."** The robotic voice of google maps completely tore your minds eye from Dan. It made you jump, you really had to change it's voice to something less akin to Hoodie's stupid modulated voice.

Noticing your jump at the sound, Tim smiled at you. You wish he didn't think your mild terror was amusing, but you knew he meant no harm. Tim was a nice guy who drove you home. Tim meant you no harm.

Flicking off the stereo, Tim turned to you as you unbuckled your seat belt. "Thank you so much for driving me," You gave him a sweet smile, that didn't feel like enough so you added jokingly, "I totally owe you my life."

You grabbed the door handle, there was a low ' _thunk'._ The door didn't open. He hadn't unlocked the doors yet. 

With a breathy chuckle, he leaned forward, "Sorry the locks get futzy sometimes." His face was inches from yours and his arm brushed past your head as he reached over your shoulder.

"It's okay." Your mouth grew dry at the close proximity. Not solely because you were attracted to him but because every other time you'd been close to someone they'd either be sweet and tender like Sully or they tried to shove a knife up your ass. It was an involuntary reaction from your trauma ridden body. 

He inched closer with a jolt, pulling on the doors lock. You didn't know why he just didn't let you do it yourself. He didn't even look to the lock, his dark eyes just bore into yours. With a _'click',_ the door was finally unlocked as Tim pulled away, leaning back into his chair. His hand brushed past your head, fixing a stray hair on your head. You flinched, you liked to know before people touched you if you could help it.

"I'll take you up on the whole life thing later." Tim chuckled as you opened the door, "Be seeing you." He gave you a stiff wave before you jumped from his car. 

"Thanks again," You slammed the door shut as cold water slammed into your skin, "Bye!" You waved behind you as you ran into the revolving door.

Goober jumped for joy at the sight of you. His food bowls were unsurprisingly, at this point, full. They really liked your dog and it was fucking annoying. He was your stinky-winky-little-baby-boy not theirs!

Rolling the damp denim from your shoulders and laying it on your counter, you contently sighed. It felt good to be free of the garment that was like a brick weighing you down. There was still a weight in your stomach that Toby had implanted in you days ago. A weight that screamed at you to be constantly looking over your shoulder. A weight that told you that you weren't safe here. You had to figure a way to get out of town and not have them kill the people you care about or your dog in the process. 

_**Knock, Knock.**_

You jumped with a gasp, turning to your wooden door. Goober barked, ears perking up and tail wagging.

"Who's there?" You called to the door, you locked it behind you when you came in. You didn't think that they'd break your door down, but they were full of surprises. 

When there was no response, you made your way into your kitchen, pulling your silverware drawer open. You called it silverware but it was more like plastic and a couple dull knifes made out of cheap metal that bent if you cut something that was too hard. You snatched one of the knifes, the sharpest on you had. A tiny paring knife that one time you cut your finger on. It could cut flesh at least a little. 

_**Knock, Knock.**_

"What do you want, asshole?" You hissed at the door, sidestepping from behind the counter. Standing feet away from the front door where Goober sat, wagging his tail expectantly. You pointed the tiny knife at the door defensively, you looked stupid.

_**Knock, knock.**_

You didn't respond, you just angrily stared the door down. A yellow scrap of paper was slipped through the gap quietly. 

_**Knock, knock.**_

If you wanted whoever was there to go away, you had to read it. One hand held the itty-bitty knife towards the other door while the other reached to the floor as you cautiously approached the door. The note was only partially showing under your door. Most likely so the person on the other side could see when you took the note.

Holding it between your thumb and index finger, you read the note while backing away from the door. It read;

**_01001001 00100000 01101000 01100001 01110110 01100101 00100000 01100001 00100000 01100111 01101001 01100110 01110100 00100000 01110100 01101111 00100000 01101000 01100101 01101100 01110000 00100000 01111001 01101111 01110101 00100000 01101111 01110000 01100101 01101110 00100000 01110100 01101000 01100101 00100000 01100100 01101111 01101111 01110010_ **

You think some nerd-bitch know it all in your college math class told you this kind of shit was called binary code. You couldn't fucking read it, you weren't some nerd boy.

_**Knock, knock.**_

One of them was still behind the door. Probably waiting expectantly for you to crack their, oh so ingenious code. There was another slip of paper put under the crack of your door. Once again, you approached the door, snatching the paper from the ground.

_**01101001 00100000 01100001 01101101 00100000 01100111 01101111 01101001 01101110 01100111 00100000 01110100 01101111 00100000 01110000 01110101 01110011 01101000 00100000 01111001 01101111 01110101 00100000 01101111 01100110 01100110 00100000 01100001 00100000 01100110 01110101 01100011 01101011 01101001 01101110 01100111 00100000 01110100 01110010 01110101 01100011 01101011 :)**_

The smiley face reminded you of Brian. The little smileys on his receipts drawn in dark ink. That was just another piece of circumstantial evidence adding onto his case. You wondered if he knew that you were catching onto him. Was Toby's identity reveal planned? Or was he a loose cannon who blew their cover?

Either way, Toby listening to him the other day, Toby was riding with him, the smiley faces that were reminiscent of the one Hoodie drew on the window that night. It all lined up too perfectly.

"I can't read this dumbass." You called out, trying to keep the fear you felt out of your voice.

_**Knock, knock.**_

He didn't care to talk. You really couldn't read the code before you and you didn't intend on looking up a translator or spending all night cracking a stupid code. You'd give him a code in response. Was it a good idea? Literally not at all. But you were not known for your good ideas.

You hustled into your kitchen, putting the pieces of paper on your counter top. You tore open your junk drawer, useless doodads looking up at you. The junk rustled as you rooted through it, looking for anything to write with. You found a green glitter gel pen. You had no idea where it came from.

**_Knock, knock._**

Talk about impatient. You bent over the counter, uncapping the pen and turning one of the papers over. On it's clean back you wrote,' _1 d0n't sp3ak n3rd b1tch'._ With a content smile, you rounded the counter and knelt, jamming the paper under the door. 

Instant regret.

You backed away from the door, wielding the paring knife at it. You shouldn't have lashed out, you should have just let him knock at your door all night. But you had spent a whole night listening to that, and you didn't know if you could handle it again. 

You didn't hear the door open. You just heard Goober bark with glee and there was suddenly a man slipping into your apartment. It was the frowny fuck you threw off the back of a pickup truck in Alabama. It was Hoodie. 

He came in quick and quiet. The second you noticed him opening the door it was already shut behind him, probably locked. He didn't have his giant rifle strapped to his back but his towering form was imposing enough.

You weren't going to bow to this asshole, Goober could protect you and you could protect yourself, kind of. "Goober! Attack!" You shouted, pointing the blade at the giant man. 

Goober just wagged his tail and walked in circles around the hooded man who stood still in front of your door. Instead of biting his balls off and tearing his arms off like you'd hoped, Goober happily accepted a head pat from the horrible man.

"Goober!" You called to the dog who looked at you with joy sparking in his eyes. He looked over the moon like he was seeing his two favorite people in the world in the same room. "Get his ass!"

Goober cutely tilted his head and let out a soft, ' _Borf'._ You knew that look of love Goober was giving the man, it was the same one he gave to you. 

A steel-toed boot took a quiet step forward, Goober steeping out of his way but staying at his side. You felt as terrified as you felt betrayed. Hoodie took another calculated step forward. You took another one back, entering your hall. You had a knife, he had himself. This wasn't a fair fight. He was in the way of the exits, his presence just daring you to try to escape.

As he took another step, you took one back while readjusting your knife pointing at the man _, "Stay back slut!"_

You didn't know if he was a slut or not but he did not stay back. He rushed forward at you, a quietly charging bull. With a shriek of surprise, you turned to lock yourself into your bathroom which was the closest room to you. 

The second your turned, a hand was on the back of your neck. It encompassed the entirety of the back of your neck in cold leather. You gasped in scared shock as his grip tightened and you were lifted off of the ground. Another hand gripped you from behind, it grabbed the front of your throat. The one behind your neck released itself as you were spun around and shoved into the wall of your hallway.

You couldn't breathe. You desperately kicked your legs, trying to get some leverage on the wall to no avail. In your panic, you momentarily forgot the knife in your hand. Gasping for air as you struggled in his grip, you threw the knife towards the arm that held you. He caught it with his free hand. He barely had to twist your wrist before your hand instinctively released the tiny blade. 

You let out a strangled squeak, trying to kick him in the balls a second time in your life. He pressed himself against you, your legs no longer had a change to kick him in his tiny dick. His baggy face inches from yours, hot breath blowing onto your face unevenly from behind his mask. 

Your lungs screamed and cried for oxygen, your vision was spotty, his mask a collage red and black and gray as your body struggled. You clawed at the hand that held you off the floor but it did nothing. Gasping, trying to push out a begrudging yet derogatory plea for him to stop, you saw him reach a hand into his hoodie pocket. He was going to fucking gut you. You were through, and your last words were 'stay back slut'.

As you attempted to gasp for breath he pulled something black from his pocket. Was he going to shoot you? 

He brought it up to your eye level, your vision was growing blurry and you were sure your neck was going to bruise if you lived through the horrible encounter. 

Hanging between his thumb and index was the taser you'd held to Toby's throat. Was this some sort of sick callback? You attacked Toby's neck so now he was doing the same to you? 

You growled at him the best you could, baring the same teeth at him that had torn flesh from his wrist. It took every remaining ounce of dignity you had left in you not to whimper. The taser dipped down with his arm and suddenly you heard a soft ' _thump'_. Your bulging eyes saw that he dropped the taser on your carpet. You didn't understand. 

The hand that had snaked around your neck suddenly was gone and you plummeted towards the floor. Hoodie stepped away from you as you fell to your hands and knees in a heap. A hand throwing itself to your throat as you gasped in oxygen, coughing weakly. You looked at him with watery eyes, confused.

Your mind was hazy but you came to the messy conclusion that he wanted to play longer. If they were going to kill you it'd be as a group. You were desperately gasping in air but you were still filled with rage and spite. You reached for the taser. He quickly kicked it a few inches away and you fell forward onto your forearms, reaching for it desperately. You looked up at Hoodie blearily, who's form cast a shadow completely over yours. 

A resounding electronic chuckle fell from his masked face. Looking down at your sneer of hate a few more moments, he turned on his heel, patted Goober once more on the head and opened your door silently. 

Your vision was blurry with tears as you heaved in air, no matter how much you gasped it never seemed enough. Your throat burned, you could feel your head pounding painfully. A mix of betrayal from your stupidly innocent dog and fear for your life filled you along with the pain. You hated them so fucking much, the cocky bastards.

There was a distant hum from a motorcycle engine, you believed it came from the alleyway under your living room window.

Hoodie was without a doubt Brian. 

The thought was a hard pill to swallow but something terrified you even more. 

Who is Masky?


	14. 13 - I'm Sorry

You had a plan. An ill conceived one. Its success rode on three factors: you not dying today, Doug showing up at the diner, and your paycheck coming in. 

Today was payday and you wanted to make it your last at the Hot and Crusty diner. If Doug resurfaced today you and him could possibly strike a deal. Doug had connections, Doug had money, Doug didn't hate your guts like _some people._ The whole plan was some horseshit a seventeen year old wannabe Sound Cloud rapper would write about.

You were going to use your paycheck and whatever was left in your bank account, sparing some cash for food, and strike up a deal with Doug. He dealt in drugs so why not shitty used cars, you thought. There was no concrete proof he even dealt in cars but Doug knew a guy for everything. If he didn't sell shitty cheap, probably stolen cars, then he knew a guy.

If Doug didn't show up then you'd have to wait even longer for him to resurface or go looking for him. For all you knew, he took off to Las Vegas to do lines of cocaine off some college kids tramp stamp. You hoped he was here today because you didn't think you had much time left.

Emile drove you to work. The seventeen year old punk chattered on about his latest boyfriend the entire ride. He sounded like any other love-struck teen you'd ever met. He sounded like you when you talked about Jen when you were a teen. It filled you with hope for the teenage lovers, but also a bitter jealousy. You'd never have a long distance relationship while you both went to separate college across the country but still making it work because you love each other. You'd never have that kind of relationship.

You were working later today. Emile convinced your shift manager to bump your shifts to match up and to give you both the early morning and afternoon off. You were thankful. After last nights encounter, when you finally caught your breath after Brian literally took it away, you couldn't get much sleep. 

Sully's mother had been attacked in their trailer yesterday afternoon. Sully called you crying over it later that night. Your gut told you it was one of them, a threat to keep in mind. Guilt nagged at you for getting a sweet middle aged lady involved. Your voice was raspy, you had sounded awful. Sully being Sully, he asked if you had a cold and when you said no, he asked if something was shoved down your throat. You wished you could tell him a six foot something daddy is disguise choked you out and that you weren't getting some but you just had to change the subject. 

You tried your best to hide the marks on your body. You threw on a dark (f/c) turtle neck that fit just a bit too snug. It was the only thing that covered your neck and deeply bruised wrist. The turtle neck felt like is was constantly constricting your breathing. Its soft fabric pressed down on the developing hand print bruise on your throat. It was the only thing that covered up the giant mark as much as possible. A bruise in the shape of his thumb stuck out slightly over the neckline. 

When you were tying on your apron, staring down Toby and Brian who sat at the same booth Emile came over for his usual idle chitchat. You heard him gasp as he pointed out the bruise,"Ay! Is that a hickey?!" He whisper yelled with a smug look of triumph. 

You looked at him, mouth hanging open in a look of disgusted offense. He had the most shit eating grin on his greasy teenage face. 

"No." You deadpanned as you scanned the diner for the top of Doug's head.

You heard Emile hum in disappointment before he grabbed your turtle neck and yanked it down. He must have seen the massive hand print as you jumped away from his sudden touch. You jerked the fabric over your throat once more. Your eyes shot to Brian who looked at you with a sweet smile no longer, it was a more subtle smile of sadistic victory, his mouth twisted up into a crooked grin that held none of the endearment it normally did. Motherfucker was proud of himself. Toby just leaned his head on his hand and waved at you with his free hand. You wondered where the third was.

You pulled your gaze from the disgusting men, whom you'd noticed were wearing their 'work' clothes. Toby was wearing his ugly hoodie of blue and muted browns, it was free of blood and brains. Brian wore the same dull yellow hoodie that you saw him wearing last night under a black jacket that looked surprisingly fashionable. 

Emile had his mouth hanging in a 'O' shape, brows raised as high as they could go. "Nice." He wheezily laughed, looking at your clothed neck.

"It's not-" You didn't know how to respond to the upcoming accusation.

"So which one of them is, ya know?" He jerked his head over to the men staring at you both, he hovered a hand over his throat making an obnoxious moan. 

_"Oh. My. God."_ You didn't know what to say. You were far from intimate with the men, they literally killed people right in front of you but you couldn't just tell Emile that.

"I never took you for one to be into _that_ kind of stuff but damn (Y/n)." Emile laughed, looking back to you.

You put your head in your hands, embarrassment and shame filling you as you shook your head, it wasn't like that literally at all. "I'm not. It was an accident, not-"

"Hey it's okay, you're into something a little bonkers my guy." Emile lightly elbowed you in the chest. You thought you were going die of horrible ironic embarrassment. You wanted the men to choke and they wanted to choke you but not like that. 

The taser felt heavy in your baggy jean pockets, you were tempted to give Emile a shock as he went on about 'acts of intimate choking' with his partner. You hoped Doug would show up soon.

The work day went by agonizingly slow. You missed the morning and lunch rushes by coming into work later in the day. There was hardly any customers. You had to serve the two dick bags who'd both held you up against a wall at some point, and not in the sexy way like Emile wanted to believe. You were on the lookout for the third man all day. You didn't know who or where he was. Had you even seen him before? 

Toby was his normal self, fucking annoying and horrible. Lacing threats in with his order for a peanut butter and jelly sandwhich. He said something along the lines of, if there's too much jelly he'll gouge your eyes out with a spoon. Brian let Toby chatter on and on while staring at you, his gaze was hard and cold, nothing like the Brian who sat in your cafe each day. He hardly said a word the entire time. Cats out of the bag, no need to keep acting as a sweet customer, but his gaze still made shivers run down your spine. You hocked a loogie in both of their drinks and food, you took Toby's threats with more than a grain of salt but at least he ate your fucking spit. Loser.

Tim came in twenty minutes before closing, unsurprisingly wearing a red and black flannel, his dark hair messy and his sideburns as unkempt as always. The chefs had already peaced out by this point. The diner didn't pay them enough to stay the extra time when usually not a single soul came inside. You could only offer him drinks.

You were filled with anxiety. The two men hellbent on killing your sweet ass stared you down as the sun dipped below the horizon. They still stared as the sunset colored sky changed from pink and orange to dark blue, only pierced by light specs of stars. Doug didn't show up at all. You didn't have his number, you feared that you may have to brave the dark alleyways of Corydon tonight. Asking the local crackpots where Doug was. You wondered if they'd follow you into the crack dens. They'd proven to be determined to ruin your life, and what was a little crack to serial murderers?

You served Tim a mug of black coffee while looking over your shoulder at the two men across the diner.

"What's wrong?" Tim asked you lowly. He knew that you thought Toby was a total creepy but you didn't completely fill him in, and you were afraid of what would happen if you would. You didn't anyone else to get hurt because of the men's hate-boner for you.

You hummed, looking back to Tim, "Nothin'. Long night." You forced a shrug.

Tim looked unsatisfied with your answer but before he could call you on your shit, Emile called for you, "(Y/n)!" You snapped your head towards the closeted furry. "Can you do me a solid?" He asked as you approached him. He had his car keys hanging from his thumb and index finger.

"I'm not getting something from your car." You deadpanned at the teen. He'd asked you to grab miscellaneous objects from his car before because he was too lazy to do it himself. Usually his chapstick. He'd always say he owes you a favor but he always had an excuse when it comes time to take him up on it. 

"Pleaaaaseeeee!" He clasped his hands together in a mock prayer, pouting dramatically. God, he was so fucking lazy.

"Your car is right there." You turned to look into the dimly lit outside of the diner, his car was parked as close as it could be to the entrance. "Do it yourself." 

There were only five people left in the diner. Since it was so close to closing and no one usually came in at this point, everyone but you and Emile went home. You both had to wait for your three customers to leave so you could clean up and lock up. You were unsure if two of the customers from hell would let you leave the diner tonight. You didn't want to leave Emile unattended with the men but also you wanted a moment of respite away from their gaze. Maybe they'd attack you if Emile left. Either way, you felt if one of you left the building something bad would happen.

"I'll give you everything from the tip jar today," The teen said, pouting his lip out dramatically.

The temptation was strong. Emile usually handed out paychecks at the end of the day, he'd handed out everyone else's paycheck as they clocked out. The only tip money left was for you and Emile, he'd be giving you his cut of tips for the day. Which wasn't much extra cash but you needed money.

You snatched his keys from his hand, he grinned at you.

"Keep away from those two while I'm gone." You murmured cryptically to him, eyeing the two men who eyed you back from their booth. You wouldn't fill him in but you could warn him of his peril somewhat.

Emile cocked an amused brow at you, "I'm not going to try to take your hot boys from you, God." He blew a stray strand of greasy hair from his face. "My chaptstick should be in the cup holder between the driver 'n passengers seat. Thanks." Emile informed you and you pushed the glass door open, bell softly dining as you did. 

You didn't say that you'd be right back. 

Pressing the red button on his keys, the lights of his car switched on and you heard a unanimous 'click' as all of the doors unlocked. You looked over your shoulder at the diner, you didn't like that the two men were out of your view. You tore Emile's car door open, spotting the pink and white tube of strawberry scented chapstick in the cup holder. You snatched it from its resting place, pulled yourself away from the car and slammed the door to the drivers seat closed. 

You whipped around and ran back to the diners entrance. You pushed your way back inside, Emile still stood tiredly behind the cash register. You saw Tim in his seat still, nursing his coffee as your eyes passed over him to inspect the men's booth and your heart skipped a beat. The men were gone. 

"Oh hey," Emile began to reach a hand out to you and you padded closer to him, a look of worry on your face, "Gimme."

You held chapstick in one hand and his keys in the other, you were tempted to tell him you needed to leave right now. That you'd steal his car if you had to. That was a little too dramatic of a statement to say to someone who had no idea what was happening to you. 

"I uhm." You reached out the hand that held his chapstick first, debating on what to say about leaving. 

Your breath hitched in your throat when someone emerged behind Emile, rising from beneath the counter top's view.

 _"BEHIND YOU!"_ You dropped the chapstick in your shock. You reached your now free hand for the teenager, a dim hope telling you that you could pull him over the counter away from the now masked man. 

"Huh?" Emile breathed out, turning at your words. Behind him, towering at least two heads above him was Hoodie. There was still shock in your system over the revelation that the two men were actually one in the same. You associated Hoodie with his frowning mask, which had now been pulled over the face you called Brian's and dull yellow hood covering the soft looking hair you also associated with the man. "What the fuck?" Emile let out an annoyed hiss at the terrifying man behind him.

_"FUCKING RUN!"_ You screamed at the teenager, lunging forward arm outstretched to pull him over the counter. To do anything, to save him.

Hoodie grabbed Emile by his long hair, clutching it in a tight ball, like he had with your neck just the previous night. Emile shrieked out a, " _Hands off the goods, bitch!"_ As his hands shot up to scratch at Hoodie's wrist. 

" _No!"_ You gasped out, he was just a fucking teenager. Just like Isaac was. 

A gloved hand snatched the same wrist that had been pulled behind your back just before. They dug into the clothed bruise, you hissing in pain. You didn't get to see your attacker fully before your feet left the ground, just the telling orange of Toby's goggles. With a scream of surprise, your body was thrown into the air. You flew for only half a second before you crashed into a table, hard.

Your back hit the table, your head snapping back as the force of your body slamming into the table made it crumble. You felt the old wood crack and break behind your back while it also fell from the sudden large object thrown in it, that being your entire fucking body. You hit the floor as the table gave way, your breath going with it as you hissed in pain. You rolled fully one time, sliding to a stop on the cool tiles. Your back was screaming in agony, you could feel a few splinters that pieced through your turtle neck and into the flesh of your back. 

You didn't have the time to groan in pain and get your bearings. You forced yourself onto your hands and knees, you had run. You noticed as you pushed yourself up to your feet that you still had Emile's car keys. You shoved them in the same pocket that held your taser. You traded them for the taser, grasping it in your dominant hand. You finally were able to stand up, not up to your full height as your back and chest screamed when you tried. You had to stand, partially hunched over. 

" _Hey! What the fuck_!" Emile screamed out, he was struggling against Brian's iron grip as Toby watched you intently behind the thick orange plastic he wore over his eyes. 

_"Don't!"_ You clutched the taser in your hands, turning it on, the sound of the electric buzzing mixing with your voice. " _He's just a fucking kid! He doesn't know anything!"_

You began sidestepping around the wooden tables. You knew damn well you shouldn't go for Emile again, Toby would either throw you into another table or bury a hatchet that hung at his hips into your shoulders. Hoodie seemed like maybe he'd listen to words.

With his baggy frown turned your way, Hoodie yanked Emile from the ground by his hair. Emile screamed out, clawing at the hand that held him and kicking his legs uselessly. 

**_BANG!_**

Hoodie smashed Emile's face into the counter top. Quickly pulling him away from the hard surface as Emile screamed. His skin reddening from the sudden trauma. You couldn't look away, your breath caught in your aching chest.

_**BANG!**_

Again the teenagers face was smashed into the counter top and quickly yanked up from it. Only to have Emile dangle even more uselessly from Hoodie's hand as his struggle began to weaken, incoherent babbles and pleas leaving his bloodied lips. His nose was snapped to the side, laying flat on his cheek. Thick chunks of dark blood had been forced from his nose. 

**_BANG!_**

When his head was brought up again, his lip was busted open, more blood dripping from his mouth and his eyes were screwed shut in agony as he let out gurgled cries. His blood staining the counter top a sickly red color. His front teeth slightly bent back into his mouth, blood and saliva dripping from his broken mouth.

_"Stop please!"_ You cried out, hot tears spilling from your cheeks. You had to stop watching, this was disgusting. You began to sidestep further away, eyes darting to Tim who now stood at his feet. Hands slapped over his mouth as he looked at the teenage boy who hung like a rag doll in Hoodie's hand. 

**"Toby."** Was all the modulated voice said. You didn't know why he even fucking bothered, you knew what he looked and sounded like already. 

"Ooh!" Toby perked up, rolling one shoulder back while his other arm yanked a hatchet from his belt loops. "I love this part!" His voice was intertwined with sadism and glee. 

You had to get the fuck out of dodge or that'd be you. You felt terrible for Emile, you should have just refused him and stayed inside. It was somewhat your fault that he was either about to get severely mutilated or killed. You could mourn later. You could feel like an amoral piece of shit later, now was the time for action. 

You turned your eyes from the gruesome sight, your ears could still hear Emile's weak sobbing and pleas. Your heart bled for him, but you had someone else to think about. 

_"No! Wait please!"_ He sounded just like Isaac.

**_Shhhhhk!_**

You didn't look over your shoulder as you expertly maneuvered around the tables, back aching but not completely hindering your movement. You were going to grab Tim and get out of here. Nobody else was going to get hurt because of you. 

"Tim!" You screamed at the frozen man, probably his first time witnessing a murder, "Come on!" You slapped your hand on his wrist, seemingly jump starting his brain. You could see a bit of the reflection of the scene behind you in his dark eyes. You could made out a limp form hanging a foot off the ground. Dripping something dark from its sneakers which no longer kicked in struggle.

"What?" Was all Tim could gasp out dumbly. 

"Come on! There's a back door through the kitchen!" You screamed but he didn't budge. You moved your hand down and intertwined your finger in between his. "Let's get outta here." You raspily spoke, smiling bitterly at him as you let the tears flow.

"Huh-heeey!" Toby whined from behind you,"Don't go yuh-yet!"

His sickening plea forced your body into action. You slapped the tasers handle into your mouth, keeping a hand intertwined with Tim's. You snatched Tim's still hot coffee from the table. You whipped around, with a muffled battle cry you threw the scalding coffee from your hand. The dark liquid flew from the white mug that soared through the air. None of the coffee reached the twitching boy. The mug fell victim to gravity before it could hit him and it slammed into the tile. It shattered loudly, white shards exploding all around it on impact. Toby snickered,"Nice thuh-throw." 

You pulled the taser from your jaws, it was slick with saliva but you could care less. "Tim! Come on!" You tugged on the mans hand, pulling him into action behind you. You began running for the closed kitchen doors. 

**_Thump_**

You didn't look back but you knew that was the sound of Emile's body being dropped to the floor. The mental image made your blood curdle and your eyes burn. 

Hand in hand, you and Tim ran for the kitchen doors. He let you take the lead as you knew where you were going. You felt him slow down, and you glanced over your shoulder as you guided your body and his passed tables. He grabbed a bowl you'd yet to clean up. 

_"Yeet!"_ He sounded like a white dad at the neighborhood barbecue saying phrases he didn't understand for the wholesome entertainment of his kids and their friends. 

You quickly turned back to the path ahead. Your main concern was escaping, not what Tim was doing to keep the men behind at bay. 

**_CRASH!_**

 _"What the fuck?!"_ You heard Toby hiss along with the sound of a few shards of the bowl falling to the floor after the initial impact. You liked to think Tim hit him in the face, much akin to what you did to Masky that night.

The doors to the kitchen were close. Tim slowed a second again, probably to grab more ammunition in the form of shitty dinnerware.

"Take that you rat faced bitch!" Tim sounded like he was genuinely enjoying himself. 

**_CRASH!_**

You could hear the sound of what you'd guess was a plate breaking and a grunt of annoyance from Toby. You hoped that one hit as well.

" _This wasn't puh-part of the-!"_ Toby began to shout behind you, sounding like a child throwing a tantrum.

**"Toby."** The demonically robotic voice urged, you tried not to pay attention the chill down it sent down your spine. 

You pushed through the kitchen doors with a yell, Tim following hot on your trail and his large hand in yours.

 _"There!"_ You pointed the hand that held the taser at the thick metal back door. 

You rushed forward, running past the drink bar. You were tempted to throw a glass of water you saw that idly sat on the counter at Toby but that'd slow you down too much. Even if it would be the most satisfying thing in the world.

"Ssluh-slow down! I just wanna-nah play with you!" You heard the doors to the kitchen burst open.

You guided Tim into the narrow walkway between a line of stoves and rickety metal shelves on wheels that held miscellaneous ingredients. You looked over your shoulder. Hoodie was close, running on the other side of the metal shelves, looking to intercept you both at the end of the shelves. Toby was bounding towards you and Tim, his arm rearing back intently. He was going to throw the hatchet in his hand at you both. You had to act.

You shoved your taser back in your mouth, there was no way you were going to stop to attempt to tase him, especially with how effective it had been last time. He took a couple hundred volts of electricity to the neck like it was nothing. You had something in else in mind, he was going to get a taste of his own medicine. 

Your now free hand shot to the stove, grabbing a cast iron pan that sat on top. You were glad the chefs never cleaned up after themselves in the kitchen. You turned, Tim's frame blocking out most of your view of Toby as you called out, " _FHUCK!"_

The taser in your mouth twisted you speech but your body language conveyed your message well enough. You screamed as you turned your torso, still running forward. You reared the heavy pan back and prayed to whatever God there was.

Tim did as he was told with a neutral smile, practically bowing down but still running. " _Fhuck ah fhick, fumbfhit!"_ You screamed the muffled phrase out, throwing the pan back to the masked brunette as hard as you could at the awkward angle. The walkway was narrow. There was no way you could have missed and you didn't.

You saw the idiots eyebrows raise a moment before the spinning pan hit him square in the chest, also catching him in his covered chin. He stumbled back as his head flew back with the sudden force. You smiled the best you could with the taser between your teeth. He'd be back on you soon enough but slowing him down even a little was a big victory for you. 

Tim shot back up, looking over his shoulder with a wolfish grin. "Nice!" He barked out with a laugh, probably one of adrenaline ridden hysteria. 

Now onto Hoodie. The walkway was going to end soon. There was short area before the back door that wasn't divided by the shelves. 

He could have overtaken you by now, he could be waiting at the end of the walkway by now, but he wanted to play. You were going to play alright. Just not in a way he'd like.

"Befhone, Fhot!" You growled the phrase out, drooling a little from not closing your mouth. You slammed your body weight into the metal shelves. The shelves weren't very stable on the old wheels they sat on for easy transport. They were long though. As your body bounced off of the shelf and your feet hit the kitchen floor, the shelf tipped dangerously in Hoodie's direction. All sorts of things falling from the shelf as it feel, a cacophony of thuds and ringing metal filled the air as it fell atop the hooded man.

He put his arms above his head, catching the tipping shelf above his head with ease. You smiled, biting down on the taser as you saw a loose bag of flour smack onto the top of his hooded head. It exploded forth, spilling a cloud of white powder all over his bloodied front. It'd be funny if you couldn't see the outline of Emile's body in blood on his jacket and hoodie. 

In character, Hoodie took the shelf and bag of flour to the head in stride, not making a single peep and continuing his mission. He stopped his advance to catch the shelf but quickly pushed it back your way.

"Fhet phown!" You barked through your full mouth, you would have to deal with it clamped between your teeth just a bit longer. 

You ducked, the shelf was mostly empty now, its contents spilling on Hoodie's side of the walkway. There was still the danger of getting trapped under the twisted metal. As it came closer to coming down on your head, you and Tim burst forth from its range. It slammed into the ovens, your heart thundering dangerously in your chest, it was too close of a call. 

_"Brian! Guh-God dammit! What the fuck!"_ In the loud mix of sounds you heard a hard ' _thump'_ which must have been Toby falling under the shelf.

**"Sorry."** You never thought you'd hear a murderer apologize for anything. Then again, you were a murderer and you'd said sorry plenty of times in the days after the slaying. 

Hoodie had caught the shelf with ease and sent it back your way but when you turned your head back you saw Toby crawling under the triangle shaped path the tipped shelves, floor, and ovens made. He was strong enough to catch it, he must have not thought Hoodie would have done that.

With an amused huff at their dysfunction, you turned your gaze forward. Your free hand slapped onto the cold metal handle and twisted it open as fast as you could. 

The cool night air slapped you in the face harder then Emile's face on the counter top. Maybe not that hard but close. You spat the warm and moist taser back into your free hand. It wasn't that disgusting compared to everything else you'd been though but you still made a face at the wet warmth in your hand.

"I have Emile's keys!" You shouted into the night air, dragging Tim behind you by the hand. It was foreign feeling to be holding basically a strangers hand with such intensity but you were in this together now. The small act of intimacy was a comfort in a world of what felt like only cruelties. You'd have to get to know him better over a proper cup of coffee that didn't taste like dirt, if you both lived through the night.

You let go of his hand, while the men chased you he accepted your hand and wrapped his thick fingers around your smaller palm. But now, he didn't let go for a moment as your unclenched hand attempted to pull away from his. When he finally let go, you both were rounding the side of the diner. You didn't hear the men behind you, you assumed they'd head for the front of the building to try to intercept you. You hoped you both were faster as they had quite a few obstacles to navigate around. 

As you ran, you shoved the taser in your pocket and tore the keys out of your other pocket. You fumbled them around, flipping through the key ring that had too many little charms on it. Finally, you caught the car key between your fingers. You held it shakily, adjusting it in your hand so it'd be ready to jam into the ignition the second you got in the car.

You forgot to lock Emile's car doors in your panic of not seeing the men in their booth. As you turned to the front of the building, hopping onto the sidewalk, you saw two figures running towards the front of the diner. You tore the car door open, throwing yourself into the car, making it rock at the sudden weight. As you slammed the key into the ignition, Tim dashed around the front of the car, opened the passenger door and threw himself into the seat. 

The engine roared to life, you slammed the gear into reverse, not bothering to take the time to buckle up or shut the drivers side door. The diners door burst open, "Hey wait! I ssstuh-still wanna play!" Toby called out through his stupid fucking face mask. 

You slammed your foot on the gas, the car screeched as it jumped backwards. You harshly twisted the steering wheel as Brian made a break for his motorcycle. 

_"Fuck off!"_ You screamed the obscenity as you slammed the gear into drive after pulling the car in a reverse semi-circle.

The car leapt forward, you screaming clutching the steering wheel with a death grip. The car barreled towards the end of the lot, the door swinging by it's hinges with all of the movement. You were driving in a straight line so you removed a hand, leaned towards the door and yanked it closed with a ' _thunk'._

 _"I'm so fucking sorry Tim."_ You yelled out, voice still raspy from last nights encounter. You barley looked both ways and didn't slow the car down as you tore out of the parking lot. You didn't have a plan on where to go. _"You don't deserve this! I'm so fucking sorry, oh my God. Holy shit."_ You breathed out the words that were like a mild catharsis in your manic state. _"I don't know where the fuck to go. I'm so fucking sorry."_ You couldn't stop yourself from apologizing over and over. The image of Emile's beaten face still fresh in your mind. You weren't the one to bash his face into the counter, but it was only done because he knew you. 

"We should go to your apartment." Tim hurriedly suggested, you looked to him a moment. He looked mildly alarmed more then anything. The only hint that you'd just ran for your lives was his hair being slightly blown back. 

"Why!? They know where I fucking live! Dead end!" The idea was horrible, bad, stupid. It wouldn't work.

"We get anything that you need from your place _real quick_ then we leave," He ran a hand through his hair, he didn't sound convinced of his own idea, "Are you sure they'll let you leave?" 

"What do you mean?" Your hands quaked as they gripped the steering wheel. Driving was a bit difficult with so many hot tears pushing themselves from your eyes.

"Do you have anyone you care about?" He calmly asked, you had no idea how he didn't sound like he needed to get drunk right about now. You sure as hell know you sounded like that.

Your mind snapped to Sully, you loved the twink, not romantically but like a stupid whore little brother, "Yeah. Why?" You knew the conclusion he was drawing but wished he'd stop. 

"How can you be sure they won't kill the _person_ you care about if you skip town? If those two," He paused choosing his words. "Guys want to hurt you that much that they just attacked you like that, then wouldn't they go after those you care about if you leave?" You didn't want him to be right. You wish he didn't have such an eerily clear head that thought steps ahead of your frazzled brain.

"It might slow them down. They kill him and they might lose me." You tried to suggest but you knew the second he implanted the idea of Sully dying in your brain, you turned onto the road that led to your apartment.

"Lose you? Have they been following you?" He seemed to know just what to say, to hear him ask you a question was jarring. 

"I think so!" Your eyes snapped to the rear view mirror, the taxidermy bat lightly swinging from the stem of the mirror. "They wanna kill me. I don't know how they found me but they fucking did and I-" You had to stop yourself as you saw a bright circle of light in the mirror. The distant purr of a motorcycle rattled through the cars metal barriers and into your ears. "God." You snapped your eyes to the road ahead, "We should just head for the highway, weave in n' out of traffic. Lose 'em or better yet, they fucking crash." You spat out the ill conceived idea, hands tightening on the steering wheel. 

"You're not in a well enough state to drive like that." Tim was right and his tone dead serious. "We can barricade ourselves in your place, get our bearings, make an escape." You looked to him, you couldn't see his eyes as his dark hair fell over the side of his face. 

You trusted him and his judgement. You may have been ingrained with the sentiment 'stranger danger' in you as a kid but Tim just ran for his life with you. You'd put your faith in him. You trusted him.

Letting out a shaky breath, glancing in the rear view, you opened your dry mouth, "Okay." 

"Thank you for trusting me." You could hear the smile in his voice as you stared down the bright white dot in the mirror. Willing it in your head to just go away. He spoke after a beat of silence that was brought on by your paranoid stare in the mirror, "Why are they after you?" 

You looked to the road, sucking your lips into your mouth with a hiss of contemplation. You had a running theory. One with no confirmation but it was all you had. To voice it meant to confess to murder to an acquaintance. You'd confessed to a cop before and got off squeaky clean, but that was because he was a pea-brained pig. Tim seemed smarter then that. You were afraid of his judgement, of him shying away from you after being so helpful. 

You trusted his judgement and he trusted you in the diner to lead you both to safety. So, you'd trust him with your deepest darkest secret. Just the one though, no one needs to know about that one thing in middle school. That was deeply embarrassing but not as dark as crushing a boys skull. 

There was guilt in what you were about to say. You never told Sully, the person you were the closest to in the past three years. You and Jen were closer than you and Sully had always been, but Jen was a corpse and Sully could never know. Tim was a blank slate.

"I think they want revenge." You breathed out shakily, you were more nervous confessing to Tim than the police officer. "I killed somebody." 

**\----**

_You didn't exactly know how you got here. Straddling the hips of a boy with definitely broken legs. The grey and light dusty brown rock was the size of a mini watermelon. You rested it on his heaving chest. His chest rattled out stuttering breaths, half-lidded eyes watery and begging you for mercy._

_Your hands were quaking. It what was had to be done. For Jen's sake. Your company watched you with wildly desperate eyes. You could only vaguely remember coming to your spot on the boys lap. No one wanted to step up to the metaphorical plate. Said plate being the one to actually kill him. So, here you were._

_They took their eyes off you for only a few moments and you were on top of him. You were still crying but you didn't let out a single sound. The boy under you shook his head the best he could, which was hardly at all._

_"Don't please." The words were a quiet plea, slightly gurgled with the blood that had to have been slowly pooling in his lungs._

_You had to do this but looking at him beneath you, rock finally in hands, the reality fully dawned on you. You didn't know if you could do it._

_You hadn't seen her move. Your gaze was so trained on the face you were meant to bash in. Soft warm breath tickled the back of your neck, moving a few stray strands of (h/c) hair. You felt her chest press into your back, odd bits of her back brace pushing into the fabric of your top. Her soft hands snaked around your torso. The touch gave you delighted goosebumps. You melted into her touch but you wish you were in her bedroom and not on some dark back road about to kill some kid._

_"Let me help." Jen's words were shaky with terror, but soft and warm and comforting as they were directed at you. You didn't move as her hands traced down your forearms. Her hands slid over yours, they were so warm._

_Her fingers slipped between the cracks of yours, digging into the uneven edges of the rock. With a soft grunt of effort, she pressed your hands harder in the rock and began to lift it. You were stunned a moment before your arms awoke, helping her hold the weight._

_Together you led the rock above and slightly behind your head. You could feel her head next to yours, hot breath tickling your ear. You'd always been close, always done everything together, you never imagined you'd do something like this together._

_This is for Jen._

_You let out a sigh, relaxing your clenched jaw._

_"WAIT! NO PLEASE!" The boy beneath your disgustingly loving embrace cried._

_Her hands made the motion downwards first. You just followed her movement, you'd do anything for her._

**_CRUNCH!_ **

**** _The rock sat in the middle of his head, you felt it go down more than your sight suggested it would. His head was a solid object but so was the rock. You weren't very strong but the power of adrenaline and teenage love made the force of the blow so much stronger then you thought it'd be._

_Jen's hands suggested to move the rock above your heads once more. You followed her lead, eyes lazily taking in the sight of his face. His nose pressed into his skin, his jaw caving in jaggedly. Eye's bulging and bloodshot, mouth letting out a rattling breath. You took the lead this time, bringing down the rock that painted a deep red._

_**CRUNCH!**_

_The rock went in deeper. Much deeper this time. His top lip had disappeared under the rock, his cheeks further indenting into his face. His bottom lip was untouched, without the top lip there you could see his bottom row of teeth and limp tongue._

_You had to be completely sure that he was gone. That the threat to Jen's existence was eliminated. You brought the rock above your head again, Jen's hands still over yours. You weren't shaking anymore._

_**CRUNCH!**_

**\----**

_"_ I had to do it. Well," You remembered the blood on your hands, the bile in your throat, "I thought it was the only choice at the time." The headlights shone on ahead, illuminating the road even more from the dim street lamps. You were growing closer to you apartment. "I was so head over heels for someone who's a fuckin' corpse now." You let out a bitter sigh through gritted teeth, "That I did what I thought I had to, to protect her," You couldn't get her younger, happier face out of your head, "Love makes you crazy and all that shit." You spat cynically.

"Damn," Tim huffed out, you wouldn't know what you'd say to a confession like that,"You been through somethin' like I have too, then." 

Now it was your turn to ask questions, "What do you mean?" 

"My whole life's been one misfortune after another," Tim spoke casually with a note of disdain, "Could never get away from _it."_ It was either out of curiosity or shitty life solidarity that you didn't speak to let him continue, "I thought I was fine," You glanced his way to see the suggestion of a frown starting to form upon his lips, "That I was getting better but life doesn't ever work out the way you want it to, huh?"

He put the ball of the conversation in your metaphorical court. You had an inkling that he didn't want to talk about it that much. Probably just doesn't get to talk about his problems too much and the near death experience and solidarity opened his sealed lips. 

You picked up on the social cue, not wanting to upset someone who'd just ran for their life. You didn't know if this was his first time running for dear life but you had quite a lot of experience. You knew he just wanted some catharsis but didn't want to deeply explore the topic. You weren't his therapist. 

You could see your apartment up ahead, most of the lights were off in the buildings windows. It was hardly ten but there were a lot of older folks in the complex, they liked to go to bed early. If the men tried to kill you tonight you'd probably wake up the whole building. Your landlord wouldn't be happy if you lived. 

"Nope." You popped the p, as you drove the car to the curb. You pulled what was referred to in the driving world as a 'dick move'. You pulled into the parking only spot at a slanted angle, the cars bumper blocking a part of the road. Now wasn't the time for good parking. "Come on."

You tore the keys from the ignition and threw the car door open. You heard a small rattle from the car door, in the little cup holder on the drivers side door sat a lighter. It was bic, black, and covered in little cute faces of Hatsune Miku. You were bitterly reminded of Emile's love for the character. You stole it from its resting spot, stuffing it into your pocket.

Tim exited the car as you hopped onto the sidewalk, shoving Emile's keys into your pocket. You jogged for the revolving door, Tim in tow as you rooted around your pockets for you apartment key. 

"This way." You softly ordered to the smoker as you ran through the lobby, pushing the thick and heavy door to the stairway open. "Watch your step." You were somewhat used to the steep steps but you don't think you'd ever get fully used to them. Your sneakers and Tim's boots stomped up the stairs, the concrete walls echoing the sound obnoxiously through the air.

He went up the stairs two at a time while you had to hop up them one at a time. Showoff. "Is it on this floor?" He stopped the door that led into the second floor.

"Yeah, good guess." Your heart was thundering in your rib cage, from the physical activity and knowing that the men were probably hot on your trail. Tim opened the door with an ease that made you a little jealous. You bolted through the open door, Tim swinging into the hall behind you. You had to tell your anxious mind that his loud footsteps didn't sound like the ones that ran at you from your couch. 

Goober barked from behind your door as you jammed the key in the lock. Tim towered over you as you fiddled with the lock, his slightly labored breath moving your hair.

The door swung open the second you heard the click of the lock. Goober stepped back from the door, eyes lighting up. You burst into your apartment, holding the door open for Tim. He shuffled inside, less awkwardly then you thought he would. A part of your brain mused about what Sully would think if he saw the man coming into your apartment with you this late in the evening. 

"Okay, okay." You breathed out, locking the door behind Tim. "What do we do now?" You anxiously ran your hands over your face, sweaty. You fingers traced over the healing pink line on your cheek then the bumps of the embarrassing band aids. You didn't want to die with those fucking things on your face but you wouldn't rip them off. You'd take them off when the wound was healed, meaning that tonight you wouldn't die. For the sole purpose of not dying with the childish bandages on your face.

"Barricade the door?" Tim suggested while Goober happily took pats to the head. Goober usually jumped on new people, you were glad Goober wasn't causing you some grief on such a shitty night.

"Good idea." You whipped your head about, looking for something, anything to block the door off with.

_**Knock, knock.**_

Your head shot to your living room window. Where two masked faced looked in at you and Tim. Toby pressed his goggles into the dirty glass, a hand on either side of his head. Hoodie's frowning mask could hardly be seen in the darkness but the light in your apartment illuminated his form just enough so that you could see his massive silhouette behind Toby.

"It's locked." You voiced the thought, you knew that a lock wasn't shit to these people. Glass was even less of a problem. "Wait," You looked anxiously to the door, "Where's the fucking third one?" You looked back the window, Toby waved at you. You hated that kid. 

"There's a third?" Tim echoed dumbly, looking to you with a laugh that came off as hysterically afraid. 

"Yeah." You had a bad feeling in your gut, "Think he's waiting outside the door or something. Two out there," You pointed to the men who crouched on the metal balcony, looking into your window, "One waiting outside. Ooh." You let out a shaky breath glancing to the window, bouncing anxiously on the balls of your feet. "Fuck me." You hissed. 

You wanted to save Tim by taking his hand at the diner. Instead you trapped him in a vipers nest with you. "I'm so fucking sorry." Your free hand grabbed your still wet with saliva taser from your pocket. "If we get out of this," You looked at him with an uneven yet confident smile despite the fact that you had none left,"I'm going to take your ass to a fucking concert. You're going to listen to so much fucking music. I'm gonna show you the good shit." The man probably didn't care much for music but you knew how powerful it could be. How much it could help or hurt. If you lived you wanted him to experience music is the best way possible.

_**Knock, knock.**_

Toby rapped his digits on the window interrupting your heartfelt proposition, while Hoodie slapped a yellowed piece of paper onto your window. It was more of that nerd shit. It read;

_**01101000 01101111 01110111 00100000 01101000 01100001 01110010 01100100 00100000 01100001 01110010 01100101 00100000 01111001 01101111 01110101 00100000 01110100 01110010 01111001 01101001 01101110 01100111 00100000 01101110 01101111 01110100 00100000 01110100 01101111 00100000 01101100 01100001 01110101 01100111 01101000 00100000 01110010 01101001 01100111 01101000 01110100 00100000 01101110 01101111 01110111 00001010** _

"Really hard." Tim breathed out with a laugh.

"What?" You understood trying to laugh your way through situations like these. 

"Really hard rock! I want to go to a rock concert." Tim nervously glanced your way. Your sweaty fingers fidgeted with your apartment keys. Emile's keys burning in your pocket. Your mind played with the idea of trying the door but the idea of Masky out there waiting to bludgeon you kept you in your spot. 

You nodded in response, you'd pull as many strings you could to get Tim to that rock concert. He deserves it after you dragged his sorry ass into this mess.

"Hey!" You barked at the man holding the note in the window,"I don't fucking speak nerd baby language! Bold of you to assume I can even fucking read!" You laughed way too confidently for your grim situation.

Hoodie pulled the note from the window. His silhouette shifting for a few moments, Toby looking over his shoulder at the taller man. Another paper was once again pressed to the glass. You were surprisingly literate and recognized what it said immediately.

**I am going to kill you, dumbass :)**

To say that you were done with this shit would be an understatement. They killed everybody you once knew. They killed Emile. They attacked Sully's mom. They stalked you. They tricked you into being friendly with them. They dragged Tim into this.

If anyone was killing anyone's dumbass, you were going to kill theirs.


	15. 14 - You Deserve It

"I swear to fucking God," You inched closer to the door, keys shaking in your hand, "If any of you motherfuckers come in here I'm going to bite your dicks off." You'd take one of them, over two. Maybe you could get passed Masky who was likely to be waiting in the hall for you. He had been silent which wasn't the norm for him, he was normally an annoying cocky bastard who would never shut up. You assumed he was going to try to surprise you, catch you off guard. Your eyes were still glued the men in the window, "Kinda like that one time _Brian."_ You spat out the name that was like bitter poison on your tongue. All eyes were on you, you could even feel Tim staring at you from his place to your side.

If you were going to die, you wouldn't give into despair like they wanted you to. You'd tear them a new one and another one after that. 

The hooded man brought his masked face closer to the window, you could see the flour that had poured down his chest. The outline of Emile's body shone through the flour in the form of clumpy red flour, almost like a line of scabs up his whole body. He was listening intently to your angry sentiments, best not keep him waiting. If he gets bored you'll die sooner then you'd like tonight.

Goober bounded over to the couch beneath the window, barking with a wagging tail. The little idiot.

His mask gave away nothing of his emotional state nor did his body language, though you could almost feel the tension radiating off the man.

"Aww," You were still going to make fun of him anyway, "I'm so sowwy that I hurt your widdle wrist," You pouted, obnoxiously sticking out your bottom lip towards the man, talking like he was a hurt puppy, "Boo-hoo my widdle wrist I can't take being bittwen by somewon half my size." The keys in your hand inched closer to the lock. 

Despite the glass barrier and his mask, you could hear Toby giggling. Either at how pathetic your teasing was or at Hoodie's expense. Hoodie just tilted his head, inching his body closer to the glass, taking an imposing and deliberate step forward. He wasn't going to take this for long. They were going to come in any second. You needed to buy yourself some time.

In the past, your big mouth only got you a fist to the face from Dan, but now it could buy you the precious seconds you needed to make your escape, "So like," You clicked your tongue trying to talk like you were at brunch with friends you hadn't seen in years, "Where's the third one? If I'm going to die at least let me call him out for having a micro-penis!" You slowly inserted the key into the lock, looking to Tim to pick up on the fact that you both were going to make a run for it. "I mean like," You barked out a cruel laugh, eyes darting back to the boys on your balcony, "You don't just carry around a edgy ass weapon like a crowbar and not be smaller then a fucking peanut. Like seriously, a crowbar?"

Everyone but you paused, you slowed the inserting of the key, stepping in front of the doorknob on the off chance they hadn't seen your activity yet. Toby was physically incapable of fully pausing, due to his tics and his body shaking quietly with laughter. If you could see Toby's face, you'd bet he'd by crying. His laughing only egged your shallow insults on.

"What is this, some shitty action movie? I get that you want to seem cool and intimidating but God's sake!" Tim's eyes bore into you, "What a fucking loser!"

You were talking out of your ass but it was true. His partners had relatively normal weapons but he just carried around a metal stick. A metal stick that was popular with young artists with edgy original characters.

"Where is mister micro-penis?" Your mouth was turned into a cruel snarl. You genuinely wanted to know, but didn't want to give them the satisfaction of you being desperate to know his location. You slowly turned the key in the lock, willing Masky to not be waiting behind the door. Toby's howling laughter covered up the soft ' _click'_ of the lock finally becoming undone. 

You turned your head as little as possible but enough for Tim to know for sure you were looking his way. You jutted your head towards the door, removing the key and slipping your fingers around the doorknob. You guessed he was in shock at the men in your window because he just stared at you tersely and made no move to come to the door. 

You mouthed, ' _Come on',_ looking to the door then to him. He just stood frozen in place, sucking his lips into his mouth and frowning, his thick brows knit together tightly. 

**_Crash!_**

It happened faster then you thought it possibly could and without warning. 

One moment Tim was staring at you with wide eyes, the two men still in their place behind the glass. The next, the glass was shattering and Tim was stumbling forward, a hatchet buried into his face at a slanted angle. Cutting into one eye, across the bridge of his nose, and nearly into his mouth. Blood was forced forth from his skull, his intact eye bulging unnaturally at you, desperate and afraid. He wheezed out something you couldn't understand in your direction, blood pooling in thick threads in his mouth, garbling his final words as he reached out an arm pathetically. He suddenly stumbled back, his head hitting your kitchen counter top with a sickly thump. 

**_Thud_**

His body slumped down to the floor, leaning forward, dribbling blood down the hatchets handle and onto your off-white carpet. 

_"HOLY SHIT!"_ Was all you could scream in your shock, your legs involuntarily trying to get you away from the man's body, from the men who had murdered him and now were going to murder you.

You'd promised him something and now he was dead. You couldn't stop yourself from hiccuping out a sob, pathetic and confused and full of grief, as you turned the doorknob handle shakily. You couldn't mourn for the man now, you just had to push it into the recesses of your mind with all the other corpses that were your fault. You whipped around, swinging the door open, _"Please don't be out here."_ You hissed the prayer to yourself, the stagnant air of the hallway hitting you.

**_Shhhhrk! Clunk_**

A sickly wet sound entered your ears from behind you, was Toby already retrieving the hatchet from the poor dead man's head? You heard something hit the ground, and a voice that sent chills down your spine spoke.

_"I've been here the whole time."_ A muffled gurgle of words was spoken behind you. You knew you should just run already but you couldn't stop yourself from looking over your shoulder, your heart thundering in your chest, you could almost hear the neurons in your brain short circuiting at the realization of what was happening. 

What was once a slumped body of your new found friend now stood shakily in the middle of your living room. A mask covered the face that had been so horribly destroyed. Thick streams of blood dribbling under the white porcelain, from under his masked chin, from the masks nose holes, even from behind the mask's dark eyes.

Masky was wearing Tim's flannel. Masky spoke in Tim's calm voice. Tim was wearing the mask. 

_"Oh."_ Was all you could breath out. You didn't know how to feel other than so fucking angry, so fucking betrayed, so fucking confused. He wasn't Tim to you anymore he was Masky. You had watched Tim die, and now this fucker was in your living room, Tim was dead to you. Masky was the motherfucker who bashed in Henry's brains. Tim was the man you nervously confessed to. You told him what you'd never told anybody else. Why _you_ did it. Why you killed Isaac Jenkins. 

You should have seen the betrayal coming. He wasn't exactly subtle, he was a total creep, what you thought was just social awkwardness had been murderous intent. You though he was just a little eccentric, not very socially aware, lacking in tact. Instead he was practically flaunting his desire to ruin your life right in front of you. You'd cut off people you were closer to, Jen. She didn't betray you though. She didn't stab you in the back and leave you to drown in a pool of your own blood. She helped you bash a teenage boy's head in, in a sickening act of childish love and hope. You weren't close to Tim at all but you had told him, you thought you could trust him because you escaped together. You gave up the information of your flimsy and pathetic reason to crush somebody's skull, and it was love. You wore your heart on your sleeve and now he was going to literally rip it out. 

You bolted from your spot, your brain finally allowing you to move, finally done processing how deep the shit you were standing in was. As you ran, you heard the crunching of glass as Toby began letting himself into your living room.

 _"Aww! What's wrong (Y/n)? Come back let's talk it out!"_ Masky's horribly muffled voice and slightly slurred voice called after you as you sprinted down the hallway. You couldn't help but cry, your tears clouding you vision. You thought he could be trusted, you thought he died because of you, and he had the gall to call after you to pour your heart out to him even more. You not only felt like a clown, you felt like the whole damn circus. 

Blinking hot tears from your eyes, you threw your body into the thick metal door to the stair well. As it slowly shut behind you, you could hear them talking amongst themselves, their voices echoing through the corridor around you.

"Toby you dumb shit! I can't see out of my left eye! How am I supposed to enjoy killing her like this?!" You couldn't believe he could still talk, that he could still walk, that he could still be alive. Toby did get stabbed in the neck and was completely fine; so was it really that unbelievable that he was talking?

**"I'll help you walk."** The robotic voice offered as you thundered down the stairs.

" _I'll be fine just split up and get that little bitch!"_ Multiple footsteps entered your ears, one was slow and labored, thumping and dragging himself down the stairs. Maybe getting a hatchet to the head actually messed him up and he wasn't completely healed?

"Shuh-she's getting away!" You were almost at the bottom of the stairs, when the door at the top of the stairs burst open. 

You threw the door to the lobby open, as you heard Masky cry out, "God! Fuck! Shit this fucking hurts!"

"I'm nuh-not sorry." Toby's voice echoed off of the walls of the stairwell. Adrenaline made the thick metal of the door feel like nothing, barely even an obstacle for you to get through. 

"Whatever you fucking weasel. Brian!" A set of strong footsteps began to chase you down the stairs as you threw yourself into the lobby. You heard a cacophony of thuds, the footsteps stopping behind you a moment and a loud bark of laughter filled your ears. _"Shut the fuck up Rogers! I'd be on her stupid ass already if you hadn't buried that thing into my fucking skull!"_ You didn't appreciate him calling you stupid, even though you were.

**"Already on it."** You could hardly hear the robotic voice, he wasn't as close as Toby.

You didn't know what they were doing exactly, but taking a detour to get to you would be stupid when they could just chase you down. You knew they were faster than you and smarter than you. There was no point to it besides showing off their creepy knowledge of your surroundings, that they apparently knew better than you. 

You let your apartment keys slam to the ground, grabbing Emile's car keys from your pocket. You felt the slimy taser as you grabbed the dead boy's keys. Slamming your body into the revolving doors, you dug your free hand into your pockets, pulling the taser from its confinement as you pushed the glass doors in a semi-circle.

Bursting into the cold night air, you saw the curb and sidewalk illuminated by the two florescent lights that sat on the apartments outer walls. You didn't look back to see how close the men were. You just focused on Emile's shittily parked car.

There was a problem, one other than the men most definitely giving chase from behind. The problem was Hoodie's towering silhouette leaning on the driver's side door of Emile's car, like he'd been waiting there for you for hours. He was blocking your only true escape, your only way to get out of this nightmare situation. If you wanted to get away you couldn't place your bets on your weak legs, you needed wheels. Your grip tightened on the taser.

Hoodie tilted his head at you, feigning confusion at your predicament, looking at you like your trembling crying form was a surprise he couldn't have possibly expected. There were shards of glass on the sidewalk that glistening in the moonlight, and you looked to the window at the end of the hallway you just ran down, it was completely shattered. The motherfucker jumped out a window, fell a story, somewhat recovered just to get ahead of you and cut you off from the car and then act like nothing had happened. 

You needed that car and you were not going to let one asshole covered in blood and flour stop you. Pulling your lips back, baring your teeth at the man, you let an animalistic scream rip from your throat. It was horribly raspy and cracked. It sounded like you were a preteen boy getting mad in a video game chat room.

You pushed Emile's car keys between your fingers, curling your hand into a fist while flicking on the taser. You charged at the man, a fist of flesh and metal pulled back ready to strike. Hoodie let you charge at him, only pushing his weight off of the car door to stand at his full height, regarding your charging feral form almost lazily.

Lunging while another scream tore through your vocal cords, you let your fist fly forward. Almost every time you tried to hit one of these men, they'd catch you by the wrist. Predictably he did, squeezing your wrist in what you thought was an attempt to make you drop the keys. You refused to let go of the literal key to your escape. 

**"Nice try."** He echoed his words from that night on the back of the pickup. It made your stomach flip and blood boil.

He gave you the taser to make you believe you had a fighting chance. So he could have more fun toying with you. You hoped he thought that getting tazed was fun because that'd be the only fun he'd be having tonight. 

_"NICE TRY!"_ You spat the words back in his face, jamming the taser into his center and pulling the trigger. The rage of Tim's betrayal flowing like lava through your veins. 

The sight of the man, who'd only moments before had towering over you, crumple into himself was a beautiful one. You continued to press the taser into his clothed torso as the his modulated voice only growled in what sounded like mild annoyance. He began to practically bow down, as you lowered and adjusted your arm to continue your electric assault on the man. Pressing as hard as you could into him, feeling the metal prongs of the taser piercing into his flesh, his body twitching and spasming around you. Seeing the car door behind his half crumpled form made you release the taser. You didn't hear it hit the ground.

Shoving past the man who stumbled, standing up a little taller, trying to reach out and grab you, you grabbed the handle to the door. His other hand clutching the taser that had pieced his flesh and was left hanging from his body. You threw the door open, the metal door swung and hit the man as he was tugging the tasers prongs from his stomach. As you threw your body into the drivers seat, ramming the keys into the ignition, Hoodie stumbled back and fell onto his ass from the door's force. With your eyes on him, you turned the ignition and slammed the cars gear into reverse. A foot slammed on the gas, the car jerked back with a roar of the engine.

Hoodie jumped back to his feet as you pulled the car into the middle of the road, switching gears. He ripped the taser from his stomach, blood lazily splattering as the object was removed him his flesh. As you hastily spun the steering wheel to correct the car's tires, you watched Hoodie single-handedly crushed the taser in his hand. Some of the now broken metal had to have wormed their way into his gloved hand, sinking into the rough skin of his palm. At least you hoped it did, you liked the men better when they were in pain. They deserved it.

The steering wheel stopped turning and you slammed your foot once again on the gas pedal; you didn't have time to be in awe of the display of raw strength. The tires screeched against the pavement as you jumped forward, quickly slamming back into your seat. Something shook and splashed quietly next to you. As the car began to pick up speed you glanced to the passenger seat and saw a blue spray bottle of Febreze. You bitterly smiled to yourself, thinking of Emile and all the times he'd hotbox his car before work. He'd spray the whole thing down with the air fresher afterwards so his Mom hopefully wouldn't kick his ass. All it did was make him smell like the 'ocean breeze' and weed. You never knew the kid well but you missed him already.

With a shaky huff you looked to the road ahead, illuminated by the pale white lights of streetlamps. The fronts of buildings with their yellow entrance lights mixing with the white on the sidewalk to bathe the drunk passersby in a light gold hue. It was a pretty sight but tonight wasn't about stopping to smell the roses. It was about escaping the three stooges of death with your life.

**_B A N G !_**

 _"What the fuck!?"_ You screeched out as the car swerved dangerously back and forth. Emile's car was a hand-me-down piece of shit, but you didn't think it'd be this rough of a ride. 

_**B A N G !  
**_It wasn't his worn tires blowing out on their own you realized, spinning your head back towards your apartment complex. It was the man in the dull tan hoodie covered in blood and flour in your rear view mirror pointing some sort of handheld gun at your car.

 _"Shit!"_ You hissed, desperately trying to steady the car, swinging the steering wheel about. Emile's car couldn't handle the abuse of having its two back tires suddenly blown out. It wasn't going to steady and you could tell by the way its swerve only grew worse, throwing you back and forth like you were on a boat. 

You'd been pretty dumb with your life choices so far, but you weren't completely brain dead. You took your foot off the gas, ceasing your wild turning of the steering wheel. You slowly applied pressure to the breaks in hopes that maybe it'd cease the cars dangerous sliding or at least make any crash that occurred less likely to be fatal. 

The car didn't give you back control so easily. In fact, it was looking like it was going to ram itself into a telephone pole. You did not want to be in the car when it crumpled into the pole. You didn't buckle up in your panic to escape from Hoodie, if you crashed your dumb ass was going to fly through the windshield. You were trying to evade death tonight, so you made a decision. Not a very smart one but one that wouldn't lead to your death.

Something drew your hand to the bottle of Febreze. Either the inkling of an idea of chaotic self defense or Emile's bittersweet memory, wanting something, anything, to remind you of the boy who died because of you. You snatched it from the passenger seat of the car as it continued its unavoidable path to the telephone pole. You continued to press on the brakes, if you slowed the car down enough then maybe you wouldn't lose all of the skin on your body to the asphalt. _"Come on! Come on!"_

With the pole only feet away, you removed your foot from the brakes, curling yourself into a ball as best you could and letting yourself fall from the open car door. The rushing pavement met the side of your torso and upper left arm first before your body rolled and bounced onto your right side. The road below burning through the thick fabric of your turtleneck with ease and quickly peeling back layers of skin. The car had to have been going twenty miles per hour, you weren't going to die, but fuck was jumping out of it horrible and painful. You'd be picking rocks out of your tender skin for days. 

Your body horribly bounced a few times and rolled, covering your body with painful heat from the friction. As you rolled to a stop, the pavement tore the fabric from your turtle necks upper arms, back and sides. You lay in the cold pavement for a few moments, world spinning and flesh screaming at the sudden absence of skin in certain areas.

_"Fuckin' nice!"_ You heard Masky's voice whoop in the distance.

You gasped for air as you unfurled your limbs, the fall having forced all of the air out of your lungs. You pushed yourself onto your hands and knees, then up to a kneeling position, willing your throbbing body to move. Your torso was raggedly rising and falling with your desperate gasps to refill your lungs. You pushed yourself to your feet, the layers of skinned flesh screaming. 

Lights of apartments flicked on in the buildings above but you knew they couldn't help. You were completely alone in this. The whole world was just you and them and the one guy who screamed from his window, " _AY! SHUT THE FUCK UP, SOME PEOPLE ARE TRYING TO SLEEP!"_ You could tell that whoever it was, was a real empath. 

The streetlights illuminated three figures moving your way. Your brain forced you to dumbly stare while you caught your breath. You thought it was Hoodie who Masky was leaning on, hobbling like a speedy penguin down the road. Toby really scrambled his brains, huh? The freak was somehow okay and still moving. It just made you feel even more hopeless, there was nothing that could stop them, not even a fucking axe to the head. They may just be men, super strong, fast, scary men but no matter what you did to inebriate them; they'd take it in stride. 

It was depressing how you still thought you had a shot at escaping them. Maybe you were a masochist adrenaline junkie. Maybe deep down you thought you deserved as much suffering as they'd give you. Maybe you were just a hopeful fool. Either way, you were going to keep running, keep fighting, until your body gave out. No matter your reasons for escape, you were still a spite fueled fuck. 

All you had was your aching body, a probably cracked phone, a Hatsune Miku lighter, and a bottle of Febreze clutched desperately in your hand that you somehow didn't drop on your tumble on the road. Breathing heavily, your raw throat burning as air ran through it, you fixated your attention on an alleyway. You had no fucking idea where you were going, but you had to make a decision.

The first few steps towards the dimly lit mouth of the alleyway, you nearly tripped over your own legs. Your legs didn't feel too good after throwing yourself from a moving vehicle. Balancing yourself by flailing your arms about, you took a steady step, then another. They were getting closer, you didn't have time to walk like a baby dear. With a rattling inhale, you pushed yourself forward. 

Arms swinging back and forth at your exposed sides, the Febreze bottle in your hand quietly splashed its inner contents about. You could hardly see anything up ahead, you hoped you didn't run into a wall or trip on anything.

"Ooh! Ruh-round two! Huh-hurry your old asses uh-up!" Toby's boyish voice called out from the mouth of the alley, he'd caught up quickly.

_"_ I'm going as fast as I can thanks to the fuckin' brain damage." Masky spat, "Wonder who's fault that is?"

You couldn't believe you didn't recognize Masky's voice when your heard it again. Then again, unmasked he talked like a normal person, not barking orders or yelling angrily. It was like a flip of a switch.

You stumbled forward, you knew that you weren't running very fast even with all the adrenaline. Being thrown into a table and throwing yourself out of a car has that sort of effect on a person. 

**"He just got excited."** Hoodie's modulated voice deadpanned as much as the device would allow, **"Toby, catch her. We'll be right behind you."** He sounded like a parent giving their child permission to eat from the cookie jar.

"What?! No way!" You heard Masky argue, his voice reverberating off the alley walls. "She's _our_ kill not just his!" They sounded like siblings fighting over riding shotgun.

**"He's just going to catch her. We'll kill her together."** The calm statement of compromise sent a horrible chill down your aching spine.

"Cuh-can I have the gun Buh-Brian?" Toby cackled, you were trying to move as fast as you could.

" _Do not give that little rat bitch a gun, Brian."_ There must have been clouds overshadowing the moons light earlier. They alleyway grew lighter, the clouds must have dispersed.

"Give muh-me the gun! I wanna sha-shoot her!" Their footsteps thundered behind you. You could see the mouth of another alley ahead, you decided you'd take your chances with it.

"The last time he gave you a gun you shot me fifteen times in the chest and then yourself you dip shit!" It was hard not to crack a smile at their dysfunction and the thought of Tim being shot that many times, a quiet huff of laughter leaving your lips. Looking to the alleyway ahead of you and then to the dark sky above you, you thought that perhaps the clouds parting to allow you to see was divine intervention. 

"That wuh-was a tic!" Toby augured, his converse on the rough pavement were the closest and loudest behind you.

"Oh bullshit!" They were so comfortable showing this side of themselves around you because you were going to die tonight. All three of them were on you, there was no escaping death. They didn't care how much they revealed about themselves, you were a walking corpse to them.

**"Stop fighting."** You didn't care to decipher the mild emotion in Hoodie's robotic voice. **"Toby, you have hatchets. Throw them."**

"But I-!" You began to run in a clumsy zigzagging pattern, nearly tripping over your feet. It was a messy attempt to dodge any flying hatchets coming your way.

**"Toby."** Hoodie tutted, you strained your ears for sounds other than footsteps. Like the sound of whooshing air around a spinning hatchet.

"You guys-suh are no fun. At least (Y/n) has buh-been fun!" As you swerved back and forth as the boy dropped your name with a disgusting amount of joy, like you were friends, but you knew you were just a plaything to him.

"And you've been the fucking worst, you rat faced bitch!" You couldn't stop the words of contempt flowing past your chapped lips. The motherfucker who killed Jen had no right to speak about you the way he just did. They tricked you, Tim's sickening masquerade left you feeling isolated and violated. You felt quite a lot of self pity but your anger overshadowed all of it. You were horrible but they were so, so much worse.

"See! She's fun!" You had looked for auditory cues and his lack of tics was a red flag. He had to be truly concentrating, aiming. You doubled your efforts of running in an irregular pattern.

It was dumb luck in the end, that you tripped and stumbled to the side, missing a hatchet to the back. Hitting the rough brick and quickly pushing yourself off of it, you leapt over the hatchet that fell into the filthy ground. You weren't a skilled survivor, you were the luckiest rat bastard to ever live, as well as the unluckiest. 

"Nice shot, dumb ass!" You spat out as you threw yourself into the alleyway the moonlight revealed to you.

It was a dead end. It was a long walkway, sided by multiple large dumpsters. You only had one idea other than stand and take your death with a single shred of dignity remaining. You never had much in the first place, so what was losing the last of it to you?

Charging forward to the closest open dumpster, you grabbed its edge with your free hand. Jumping with a grunt of effort, you hauled yourself into the wretched smelling, dank and dark dumpster. Your exposed raw flesh screamed at the unknown substances as they grazed against. You put your hand against the inner wall of the dumpster, something slimy sticking to your hand. Cringing, you used the support to push yourself into a more advantageous position. Kneeling unevenly on the trash bags, one of which was leaking something you couldn't see, the hand that held the Febreze shot up. Peeling two sweaty fingers from the blue spray bottle, they instead latched onto the edge of the dumpsters lid. As quickly and quietly as you could, you shut the dumpster.

"Wuh-where'd you go?" A stomach churning playful voice called into the alley. He was just playing with you, like he had been this whole time. 

_"Oh shit,"_ Masky cackled, heavy and slow footsteps crunching on the filthy floor, "Dumb ass trapped herself." 

You did your best to slow your breath, quieting yourself as you prepared your ill conceived plan. You'd touched dead bodies before but peeling your hand from the sticky wall of the dumpster made you want to vomit. Part of you wanted to spray just a bit of the air fresher directly into your face to somewhat mask the smell. All that'd get you was burning eyes but maybe you'd die smelling slightly better. 

_**Bang!**_

The sound of a dull ringing filled the alleyway. "This _supposed_ 'micro penis'ed loser' has his crowbar." Masky's taunting call almost made you rip out a laugh from your lungs. "My crowbar and I aren't very happy about what you had to say about us, _you pathetic wretch."_ Your little comment must have really degraded him because he spat out his words with a thick venom, for a crazy murderer he was surprisingly easy to rile up.

Not responding, you slowly removed the cap from the Febreze, cringing at the soft ' _pop'_ it produced as it came off the bottle. You set it down on the trash below, your now free hand reaching for your pocket. 

_**Bang!**_

The sound was closer, "You know," Masky clicked his tongue, "The little bitch told me why she killed that kid. _Her own little reason_." He mused with a snicker.

Your eyes burnt from the tears he caused, further stinging from the fowl garbage can air. You bit your lip as you reached into your pocket, wrapping your fingers around the lighter. 

**"Personal reason?"** Hoodie's even tone had melted into one of sick amusement. 

You told yourself they were just trying to lure you out by talking shit. You couldn't expose yourself by getting angry, but you wanted to so badly.

" _It was love."_ Masky's muffled voice spat, his uneven footsteps passing your dumpster with purpose. They probably knew where you were. You wanted to take back every word you'd said to him. 

" _She did it because she was in love, isn't that sweet?_ " Masky cooed. You trusted him and you were getting punished for it. 

_**Bang!**_

The dumpster next to yours was slammed with what you assumed was his crowbar. You didn't know where he'd gotten it. All you knew was that the sound made you jump nearly out of your skin, your heart thundering in your ears. The garbage below you rustling way too loudly. Clamping your teeth down harder on your lip, you pulled the lighter from your pocket. 

"Awwwww." Toby drawled, a low scraping sound traveled through the air mixing with his footfalls. The grating sound traveled across your dumpster, a horrible screeching echo, you clenched your teeth, "That's-suh cute." Whatever he was dragging across your dumpster was removed from it's side. The sound quickly picked back up again, you assumed he was doing it to the next. They had to have heard you jump. 

" _She said it was to protect her, she was that girl wasn't she? The one you ran with? The one you left to die?"_ He wasn't there, he didn't see how she died. He didn't know anything about Jen. He had no right to speak of her. To judge you for what you'd done when he was no better, your hands curled tighter around you measly weapons.

"Thu-the one I kuh-killed?" The horrid scrapping stopped, your ears felt blessed. Your blood was curdling in disgust at the way they so casually talked about her. Your disgust grew, you didn't deserve to be angry on her behalf. All you did to her was build up her hopes for your love and crush them under your heel. Your teeth pierced the tender flesh of your lip, the metallic taste spreading on your tongue. 

_"Bingo."_ Masky coolly responded before a low plastic groan filled your ears. There was a beat of silence before the groan sounded again, followed by a ' _thud'._ He was pretending to look for you even they all damn well where you were. You mentally dared them to just fucking try it. 

**"On the truck,"** Hoodie began, modulated voice not hiding his contempt, **"She looked like she had been crying."** The observation was incredibly obvious but it made your grip on the lighter tighten, your thumb ghosting over the spark wheel. **"Must have been crying over getting a loved one killed."**

He talked like he knew you. You didn't love Jen when she died. You both admitted to partially hating each other. The only love there was, was the remnants of your teenage selves reaching out through your adult bodies. You didn't get her killed. Toby was the one who threw the hatchet that buried itself in her back and pierced her lungs. 

You forced your teeth from further mutilating your lip. The blood tasted like metal and hatred. 

"She fuckin' killed for that chick and didn't even get any!" Masky cruelly laughed. Your eyes angrily bulged from your head, your lips pulled back revealing your bloody teeth in an angry snarl. They were oversimplifying things and throwing around false information they had no place to even talk about.

"And shuh-she called me a vuh-virgin! Takes-suh one to know one!" Toby threw your words back at you with a giggle. 

It was never about 'getting some' with Jen. They didn't know what they were talking about. You couldn't tell if it was the fear or the rage that made you shake so violently. They were getting to you, but you would make them pay for everything they were saying. That one thought kept you in place waiting.

Masky cackled at this words, "Nice." There was a soft pitter-patter above your head, he was drumming his fingers on your trashcan. _"Man (Y/n), you really are pathetic aren't you?"_ His drumming continued, you adjusted the lighter in your hand, placing it right before the spray bottle. "Hah! I can't believe you trusted me out of all of us. We all thought you were going to trust Brian, he's good at that kinda thing, ya'know? Used to love acting." Your thumb pressed into the spark wheel, its edges digging into your skin. "But you trusted me of all people! _Me!_ I still can't fuckin' believe it!" Your fingers crawled up the Febreze bottle, up to its top where the trigger to release the condensed sweet smelling spray. 

You were stuck in a trashcan while they dragged your already degraded ego through the mud and you just had to sit there a take it. All so you could get one last horrible word in. 

"I wonder how it feels," Masky mused, a crack of moonlight flooded into your trashcan as he gripped the lids handle, "To know you're going to die such a failure."

The darkness around you was torn away with the lid of the trashcan. It slammed into the brick wall behind you as you stood on the bags of garbage, screaming, skin torn away, and legs covered in God know's what. You pointed your shaking arms at Tim's stupid fucking mask. You flicked on the lighter, as all eyes fell on the objects clutched in your hand in a slow moment of ' _oh shit.'_ The second you saw the yellow light that burned your eyes to look at, your fingers pressed down on the trigger of the Febreze can.

You bared your teeth at the white mask, not paying attention to Hoodie directly behind him, your rage was completely pointed to Masky, to Tim _, "YOU SMELL LIKE A FUCKING CHIMNEY! LEMME FIX THAT, YOU MICRO PENIS'ED FUCK!"_

The stream of yellow and orange flames sprayed horribly into his mask. Licking at his dark hair, flowing beautifully past the eye holes, heating his mask hopefully enough to melt his skin. The fire bent around the mask, reaching below his fake chin and caressing his throat.

Hoodie who'd made the poor choice of standing right behind his partner got the excess flames that didn't extinguish themselves after flowing through Masky's form. The flames stuck themselves to his hood, his shoulder, and his baggy mask. The frowning thin fabric began to singe away, quickly revealing the sweet expression of mild alarm on his face. You wanted to be impressed with his grit, but nothing he could ever do would impress you. He didn't deserve your mental praise.

The sweet scent of the burning chemical hit your nose as Masky's screams of agony filled your ears which was so much sweeter. As he stumbled back, falling into the chest of his partner who was desperately trying to pat out the flames on his own shoulder,

" _ **GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH!!"**_ The hot porcelain of his false face muffled his cry but not much, his agony was loud and pierced your ears to your horrid delight. You never thought you'd enjoy hurting another person so much, a sick involuntary grin crawling over your lips.

You ceased the stream of flames, lifting you finger from the cans trigger. Putting a foot on the trash cans edge, you looked to the still screaming man with a smile. You launched yourself from the dumpster, landing almost on your hands and knees but you steadied yourself before you hit the ground. You forced your legs into action, leaving the burning men behind you. 

_"YOU FUCKING BITCH!"_ Masky gurgled out, the mental image of his face melting away made your smile spread wider. He fucking deserved it. For killing Henry, for stalking you, for betraying your trust, _for rubbing it in your face._

You didn't hear Toby move to his spot at the end of the alleyway while you were in the dumpster. Then again, Masky was chattering away and drumming his fingers on the can for some time, the boy could have moved then. There was something different about Toby, the way he stood still. His hands empty of his hatchets, they lay forgotten on the concrete ground of the alley. Growling, bearing your bloody teeth in an aggressive challenge to try you as you approached. Toby made no moves to stop you. His gaze was pointed at the bright yellow flames that reflected off of his goggles orange hue in a striking fashion. 

Not wanting to tempt fate, you didn't spray him down as you passed him. He didn't even turn his head as you left. As you rounded the corner, thunderous footsteps sounded from behind you. Just a single pair could be heard over Masky's screams of anguish and incoherent curses to you. You barreled down the alley, your mind filled sickening triumph. As you moved towards the end of the alleyway, you looked over your shoulder.

Sprinting behind you with an unbelievable speed in his condition, was Hoodie. His shoulder still on fire, his hood fallen and singed, flapping in the wind behind him. You could only see a single eye through his singed yet still intact mask. If looks could kill you'd be dead on the ground. His partially singed eyebrow slanted down, skin creasing deeply, eye filled with malice. You'd never seen such a reaction from the man but something about what you'd just done set him off in a way you couldn't have expected. 

_"No! Not again! Puh-please!"_ A wail washed over they alleyway, you couldn't hear sirens in the distance. Corydon had quite a lot of criminal activity and an unspoken 'no snitching' policy. The police weren't called very often, even to the most open and obvious crime scenes laid out in public. 

Still looking to Hoodie as you bolted forward, you saw him slow a moment. He glanced over his shoulder before turning his hateful glare back to you and continued his pursuit.

" _Nuh-nuh-no! Sttuh-stuuuh-stop!"_ You could hear the terror in Toby's voice, he was falling over his words. You didn't know what could have rattled the psychopath so badly but something clearly had fucked him up. " _Nah-not agah-again! Puhhh-puhh-plea-please!"_ It piqued your interest about what sort of weakness he could have, but you could care less about what was troubling him.

Hoodie on the other hand skidded to a stop. You were confused, your scrambled brain thinking he was going to pull his concealed firearm on you. Instead he sent you one last death glare, spun around on his heel and bolted back to the alleyway where his partners were.

It was confusing but you shrugged it off. There was no time to be alarmed and mildly concerned for what the hell was going on in that alleyway.

You turned ahead, gasping and panting as you ran. You didn't realize you were crying till you felt tears streaking down your face, all of you emotions finally hitting you like a bus. There were too many reasons, relief, freedom, joy, despair, fear. Your feelings felt like static on a shitty TV, muddled symbols and words and ideas. 

You looked over your shoulder as you burst from the alleyway. All there was behind you was brick and miscellaneous garbage, no murderers. 

_"Guh-guh-get up! Puh-please!"_ If you didn't know Toby, on the surface level that you did, you'd feel bad for him. His wails were long, labored, and pathetic, you could hear the sobs ripping from his lungs. It wasn't your problem. 

You choose a random direction on the side walk and ran. Your running was clumsy yet rhythmic. Tripping over your feet more often than you'd like to admit. You kind of liked it though. It reminded you that you had a body, poorly functioning and in mild shock, but a body nonetheless. You were alive despite it all. Everyone else was dead. Except Sully, his mom, and maybe Doug. 

_Brrrrrrringggg!_

Your phone buzzed softly in your pocket. Still running, you checked the caller ID, Sully. Speak of the devil. 

You wanted to pick up the phone, you really did. You couldn't though. Sully deserved to live. So you could no longer associate with him.

_Brrrrrrringggg!_

His cheeky smile on the icon you'd set for him in your contacts stared at you with happily accusing eyes, piercing your soul and making your heart ache dully. You were the reason his mom was hospitalized, that weighed heavy enough on your filthy conscious. You couldn't get him killed.

_Brrrrrrringggg!_

You shoved the phone in your pocket and let it dully ring through the fabric. Its soft vibrations feeling like an earthquake to your flesh. 

_Brrrrrrringggg!_

You had to keep moving. You didn't know where you were going and you didn't care. As long as you were as far away from them, you'd be happy. These days, you always looked for the silver lining in bad situations. You couldn't find one that shone bright and obvious for you to point out. Maybe it was the Goober was still alive, probably. If he was he probably ran out of the open door of your apartment and shit in front of your neighbors door. The thought made you smile. There's the silver lining.

You looked for others. Your muddied brain was having a tough time looking. Spraying Tim in the face with fire was extremely satisfying and very well deserved. The joy it brought you was slightly concerning, but it wasn't like you'd come out of an experience like this and be completely mentally sound. The fresh wounds of your trauma had been messily torn back open with a scalpel drenched in sewage water. Your trust and faith in your fellow human beings has been smashed like a pinata. A horrible, bloody, filled with flesh and bone, pinata.

You constantly looked over your shoulder, turning onto random streets, jumping fences, running with all your might. Your exhaustion was catching up to you, you'd hardly slept all week. There was also the fact that a trio of men who you'd all called daddy semi-jokingly at one point just tried to kill you, so you felt pretty shitty. You needed somewhere to sleep the night's events away. Preferably somewhere they won't look.

That somewhere fell into your lap as you slowed your run to an exhausted walk. The only barrier to the park was a chain-link fence. You threw the lighter and blue bottle over then fence before hopping onto it. Feet sticking into the holes of the fence, fingers clenching the refreshingly cold medal. Grunting, you climbed clumsily over the top of the fence. You tried not to fall off of the top of the fence but you sore body couldn't help it. 

Your body hit the soft grass, the coolness of the dewy grass seeming to soothe your torn flesh. You let out a long content sigh. You knew you couldn't lay out in the open. Groaning, you pushed yourself up onto your hands and knees, grabbing the components to your makeshift flamethrower. 

The park ahead was small. A playground of bright reds and blues. A swing set sitting next to the plastic and metal structure. You looked around for something to shove your body into. It stuck out like a sore thumb. The crawl tunnel was fashioned into a green caterpillar with cartoonish eyes and booted feet at its sides on its white legs. That was where you were going to sleep.

Kneeling, you slid the lighter and spray bottle into the tunnel that was a little too small for an adult. You'd make it work. You slithered your body into the plastic tube. Small electric shocks prickled at your skin from the static electricity. Pulling yourself forwards on your forearms, you grunted, feet digging into the wood chips behind you, further propelling you into tube. 

It took a lot of awkward wiggling and a bit of pain from your exposed tissue rubbing against the grainy plastic but you did it. You fit your body inside of a cartoonish Caterpillar. You let yourself lay on your belly, arms splayed before your head. Your fingers loosely holding onto the lighter and bottle, just in case. You rest your head in the hard plastic, it wasn't very comfortable but you were so tired.

You let sleep take you.


	16. 15 - Feral Frenzy

**Content warning: Attempted suicide/suicide mentions**

A dreamless sleep was rare for you these days. It was a welcome change after so many restless, sleep deprived days. That wasn't to say you felt good, when you woke up you felt like you'd taken a trip down a water slide without water and the slide was made of sandpaper. 

Groaning, your eyes cracked open to the dull morning light filtering through the green plastic walls of the caterpillar you'd taken residence in. Birds were chirping, people were laughing, making lighthearted conversation with friends and family, and you were partially skinned in a crawl tube. 

Pushing yourself onto your forearms, you noticed how it felt that the torn layers of flesh felt like they were pulsating. You hissed through grit teeth at the dull throbbing, fully wrapping your fingers around your two current most prized possessions. A Hatsune Miku lighter that smiled at you with sparking cartoonish eyes and an 'ocean breeze' scented bottle of Febreze. 

Your mouth was dry, tongue sticking to the roof of your mouth. Your cheeks were crusty with dried tears, your eyes burned. You did your best to disregard your condition, you had to keep moving. You had to go somewhere. Anywhere but Corydon. You army crawled forward, through the tight corridor of the caterpillar. 

Pulling yourself from the ass end of the cartoonish caterpillar, you let out a raspy groan. Your bare forearms planted themselves in the playgrounds wood chips, the small bits of wood digging into your exposed and tender flesh. You kicked your legs that were still inside of the tube to further pull yourself forth. 

"Mommy? Who's that?" You didn't see who'd said the words but you knew it had to have been a child. "Why does she look like that?" You'd be confused too. 

"Don't look at her, Jimmy!" The supposed voice of the child's mother snapped. You couldn't stop yourself from rolling your eyes. You knew you looked like a crackhead but you weren't one. Even if you were, little Jimmy wouldn't catch a case of crack addiction just by looking at you. If you were his mother you'd tell him to look at you and say something along the lines of, that's what happens when you don't study in school. Some stupid bullshit scare tactic that'd scar your kid forever. 

Legs finally freed, you pushed yourself onto your hands and knees. Your muscles protested against the action, telling you to crawl back into the tube and go back to sleep. You couldn't afford to do that though. You had to get out of Corydon. 

Squinting as you let your adjust to the morning light, you stood to your feet, wobbling to and fro. "Jesus fuck." You slurred out involuntarily as you steadied yourself with waving arms. Children and parents were staring at you. Understandable, you were a somewhat skinned adult alone, in a park for children. Not the best look. You paid their gaze no mind as your eyes fell onto a gleaming water fountain. With a dry gasp of relief, you stumbled over to it. 

It stood up to the halfway point of your torso. You hand to bend in half to get your head in line with the nozzle. The hand that clutched the lighter pressed into the large grey button that released a pressurized stream of water into your open mouth. 

Your dry mouth cried in relief as you greedily took in as much water as you body would allow. You had to pull away after what felt like a whole minute to catch your breath. Once you did, you started desperately drinking once more. The process repeated itself a few times until your felt so hydrated you could be a weird moisturizer commercial. 

Gasping as you stood to your full height, you saw that families were still staring at you, their eyes boring into you. Always watching, you were always being watched. 

_"What?"_ You weren't exactly in the greatest mood after running for your life for what felt like the hundredth time. Your hissed word was meant to get them to stop staring, to realize the error of their ways and take their judgmental eyes from you. Instead, more eyes fell on you. You couldn't escape them. 

Huffing as your shoulder slacked down, "I'm out of here." You grumbled to no one in particular. You lazily looked around, searching for the open gate of the park. You didn't feel like jumping the fence again and falling on your ass. It didn't take long to spot the open gate, flimsy and letting the soft breeze blow it back and forth. 

You had to get your ass out of Corydon as fast as possible, but you weren't going to start running right away. You'd run if you had to. Your body was still exhausted despite the somewhat okay nights rest you'd gotten. Sadly, sleep couldn't heal your traumatized mind or make your back stop aching so intensely.

You had no plan, nowhere to go, no one to call for help. Your hottest idea was to walk out of Corydon and out of the public eye. Become a hermit, live in the woods in a cave or some shit. 

The idea wasn't very appealing but the men would hurt those you were close to. Just to get at you. So, you had to cut yourself off from society as a whole. Go off the grid. The silver lining was that you'd never have to pay taxes. You could eat sticks, leafs, and bugs. It'd suck mad dick but it's better then being dead and buried. Your friends could be figures made from mud and cute woodland critters.

As you left the park musing about what names you'd give to your hypothetical furry friends, you looked left and right. The left led back the way you came, to the concrete jungle. The right led to a white picket fence neighborhood. You chose the neighborhood wanting to get away from the men you couldn't see.

You knew they weren't dead. Masky got a hatchet to the face and still chased your ass down. You threw Hoodie off of the bed of a pickup truck, he seemed just fine. Toby was tazed in the throat then promptly stabbed in the jugular, he shrugged it off. A little fire wouldn't do shit to them.

The sidewalk you traveled down falling apart on the edges. in between the cracks of the pavement grew dandelions. Their bright yellow hue reminiscent of those you put on the graves of your childhood companions. Just another reminder of how alone you were. 

You avoided the body of an incoming stranger on the sidewalk. You dodged them almost dramatically throwing yourself to the side. You knew it wasn't one of them. Everything you'd been through had made you adverse to human touch, the thought of someone putting a hand on you made your hair stand on end. Nearly every time you'd been touched by another human being, they'd hurt you and you'd hurt them right back, or at least try. A tender touch wasn't to be found with strangers, so you'd avoid them like the plague. 

Sully's loving touch stuck in your mind. Imagining his heavily moisturized hands on your skin, his soft voice reassuring you. You missed it. You missed Goober's soft fur under your fingers, his snout resting on your shoulder as you clutched him and cried. You missed feeling loved. 

You hated feeling like prey. You were not helpless, you were not weak. You were resilient, resourceful, and full of angry spite. The men made you feel like you were out of control of your life. Everything you did to fend them off reminded you of one thing: you were unbreakable. Or maybe your psyche was already cracking under the pressure, ready to burst any second. You couldn't really tell. Your thought process was the equivalent of TV static, a barley intelligible tune of circus music playing beneath the mind numbing buzz. 

You didn't want to but you'd just roll with the whole scrambled brain thing you had going on, for now. You'd worry about your mental health when you were a hundred miles away, living in a hut made of branches and mud. 

Crossing a freshly paved road's cross walk, you entered a neighborhood. There was no sidewalk, just the dark pavement, green grass, and humble homes. You walked on the pavement, beside the curb. Each house had a deep green lawn, a blue coat of paint, and a single young tree planted in the middle of their yards. You felt like you were walking passed the same house over and over. Only the slight differences in outdoor decor or gardens could pull your mind from the idea. 

There were two women in the lawn you were walking passed. The one with short dark hair, donning a muscle tank held a hose in her hands. The morning sun made the ring on her finger shine obnoxiously. The other with longer hair squealed in surprise when, what you assumed, her wife sprayed her blouse down with a stream of water. 

"Ah! Babe!" The longer haired woman laughed, holding up her arms against the watery attack. "Stop! I have to get ready for work!" Her partner just cackled, continuing to spray her down.

You slowed down to watch the scene, still moving but your eyes were glued to the couple. Jealousy and regret ripped through your soul. You huffed, forcing your eyes away from their playful affections.

You thought you were over Jen before you came to the cabin that night. You'd left your relationship with her in the dust. Your emotions dead and buried like Isaac. 

Her dying words, her saving you; they drudged up old feelings, love and resentment with a side of hatred. You loved the memory of her, the things you did together, the long nights talking on the phone, her hands over yours. Her hands over yours as you both crushed Isaac's skull in. Her chasing after you, begging you and pouring her bleeding heart out to you. Your cruel and angry rejection. 

The crude idea of your relationship the men had of you and Jen in their heads was disgustingly insulting. They knew nothing. They didn't know the fragile intricacies of your relationship, your long history. You couldn't sort out your feelings for a corpse, but they had no right to project their ideas of what your relationship was. 

Tears threatened to spill. You brought the hand the clutched the Febreze up to your eyes. Rubbing each eye with the back of your hand. Thankfully, the back of your hand wasn't slimy with the unknown substance from the garbage can or blood. You still smelled horrible though. 

In a stupid moment of putting two and two together, you sprayed yourself with the Febreze. 

_"GAH! FUCK!"_ The mist that sprayed you, blasted your exposed raw flesh, turning the dull throbbing into a burning sensation. "Shit. shit. Bad idea, bad idea." You hissed, trying to wait the burning sensation out. It didn't last very long, quickly subsiding but it made the affected flesh feel even more aware of the cool breeze. Every time there was even the slightest breeze, your skinned flesh would scream and make you cringe, gritting your teeth.

Shaking out your arms, huffing unevenly, you tried to distract yourself from the pain. You bet you looked like a coked-out druggie, you could almost feel judging eyes on you. You didn't care, you were going to walk into the woods you dreaded so much and live like a hermit. People's opinions of you didn't mean jack shit. Strangers that is, you cared about what Sully thought of you. You wondered if Maurice, your therapist, thought you'd been a little too busy with paranoia to email the past week, would be disappointed with you. Giving into fear, going a little feral and setting a man's face on fire. You hoped him and his kids were well. 

The houses seemed to stretch on endlessly before you. You just continued forth, hoping the men didn't find you. You'd hate to scar some kid, having them see you get brutally murdered out of their bedroom window. 

The dull hum of a car engine had you whipping your head around your shoulder with a gasp, your heart thundering with fear. You'd seen the car sometime in the past, the fuzz in your head wouldn't let you fully retrieve the memory. You just knew it was a cop car. The black and white vehicle topped with red and blue lights was a dead giveaway. You were glad the lights weren't flashing and it's siren not blaring. 

It wasn't the mini-van Tim had drove you home in nor was it Brian's motorcycle. It wasn't of importance. Huffing out your nose, you turned your head back to the long path ahead. 

You were acutely aware of the car slowing to a crawl beside you but you didn't look to it. The police had failed you before, there was no point in asking for help. 

"Excuse me?" A gruff commanding voice talked at you through the vehicles open window. 

You hummed in response, acknowledging the officers presence but not fully engaging with him. 

"Miss, you can't be out here. Your presence is disturbing the peace." That made you look his way. His thick mustache that sat on his upper lip, completely obscuring it, made you slowly recognize him as Officer Dickwad. You foggily remembered your only other interaction being quite negative. 

Your grip on the items in each of your respective hands subconsciously tightened. "How so?" You droned the words past your chapped lips.

"Looking the way you do, you're alarming the neighborhood residents." Sure, you looked like you'd been dragged through hell and back but you weren't disturbing anyone. 

"I'm not hurting anyone. I'm just a passing eyesore." You couldn't help but self deprecate yourself with a lazy smile.

"You're disturbing the peace." The officer sounded so sure of himself.

"Dude," You wheezily laughed, "Literally how?"

"This is a nice neighborhood, lot'a good people. We can't have your kind running about." The rude words slipped through his mustache, you were sure he was glaring at you from under his bushy brows. 

"I'm walking though." You smugly corrected him, you weren't exactly in the mood to take his shit. "I'm just walkin'," You echoed, "Not going to bother anybody, don't worry your pretty little head." You told him the truth with an air of condescension. 

"Well, my wife and kids saw your filthy ass _walkin_ ' on by!" So that what this was about, his kids were somewhat alarmed by your grimy self. "My wife called me up sayin' some crackhead was coming through our nice little neighborhood." Did his wife snitch on you for looking a little ugly and worse for wear? Rude.

"I'm passing through, I'll be gone soon. Tell your wifey not to worry about the," You looked down at your torn clothes, dark spots of unknown substances littering the torn fabric, " _Big bad crack addict."_ You looked the part but you were just a shitty excuse for a final girl. You thought your movie was over, you got away. Instead the universe put you in a shitty sequel that you wanted no part in. 

"Get in the car." He jutted his thumb to the backseats, separated from the front seats by metal bars. "I'm gonna take you down the station."

_"Are you fucking serious?"_ You couldn't help but stop the baffled look on your face, "I literally confess to murder and you're like 'okay whatever bye'. But I walk passed your house looking like shit and you wanna take me in?" You huffed, blowing a greasy (h/c) strand from your face, "You gotta get your policies 'n shit in check, man." You shook your head with a sarcastic smile. 

"Get in the car." The officer growled through clenched teeth, his car rolling beside you as you continued to walk.

The loud rumble of a motorcycles engine ripped through the air. With wide eyes and a hanging jaw, you looked over your shoulder to the street behind you. Nothing. It might not even be him but the anxiety clutched your bones with a death grip. Your legs felt weak and a voice in your head was screaming at you to hide, to move. 

"Bye." You breathed out the single word before bolting. You jumped over the curb, scuffed sneakers landing on the soft grass.

_"HEY! GET BACK HERE PUNK!"_ You heard his car door swing open as you threw yourself across a stranger's lawn. _"YOU'RE RESISTING ARREST FROM AN OFFICER! HEY!"_ The man barked behind you as you made your way between the large space between two houses. "HEY!" You ran between the houses, peeled flesh aching as wind whipped past you. 

The officer behind you was just an annoyance, a noise machine. You didn't want to be caught by him and be dragged back into the heart of Corydon, you had to get away from the men. Jail would be a safe heaven but you had a hunch he only wanted to throw you in a cell for a day to put his darling wife at ease. Be a big, strong, competent husband. You got being devoted to your partner, but throwing a clearly injured and obviously not okay stranger in a jail cell wasn't the best way to go about showing love. What did you know anyway? You loved Jen, she gave you an opening to a better life but you rejected her. Now she's six feet under. You didn't have much room to judge. You were going to anyway. You didn't feel like being the bigger person or taking the high road today.

You ran through the strangers backyard, passing by a trampoline full of children. They stopped their giggling and bouncing to stare. You shot them a toothy smile, you meant for it to be silly so they wouldn't be scared. It didn't work as one of them started crying. "Oops." You whispered out with a sharp exhale. You have officially hit rock bottom, your smile made a child cry.

The strangers backyard led into another neatly paved road. The officers boots pounded heavily behind you, "STOP!" His call was mixed with the motorcycles engine that sounded somewhat closer. You looked down the road you were currently running across, a dark mini-van around the corner. You couldn't see the driver, and you were in a heavily gentrified neighborhood, mini-vans were commonplace. It still sent alarms to your traumatized brain, your breath catching. 

You pushed yourself onto the the next stranger's lawn as the mini-van drove slowly down the road. The officer behind you still screaming commands at you, but you didn;t bother trying to decipher what he was saying. The law wouldn't matter if you were dead.

As you ran into the backyard of another stranger, the officer's footfalls grew louder. Subconsciously, your fingers moved to the trigger of the Febreze and the spark wheel of the lighter. You weren't thinking about much other than escape. Everything else fell to the wayside in your muddied mess of a brain. 

_He touched you._

The officer wrapped his meaty hand around your exposed wrist, his touch burning the peeled back layers of tissue. His touch wasn't tender, it was unwelcomed, rough, just like _theirs._ He grabbed the hand that wielded the lighter, the second his skin touched yours, your thumb flicked it on. You couldn't help but scream as you whipped around.

All morning there'd been a dull buzzing echoing inside your skull but when he touched you, the static was deafening. It sent a wave of agony through your sensitive nerves. Every little movement was your own but it wasn't at the same time. All you knew was his flesh upon yours and the option to attack that you took without second thought. You couldn't think as your skin bristled and tingled, like the static was inside of you.

Turning, your bulging eyes met with the small flame of the lighter. When the Febreze bottle was within range, you pressed a single finger down on its trigger. A jet of fire spewed into the mans pants. You couldn't hear his scream over the buzzing. You felt like your head was going to burst.

You couldn't feel anything but an animalistic urge to survive. He was a threat to your survival, something to be eliminated. You could feel the scream ripping itself from your lungs, but you couldn't hear it over the noise. 

His hand removed itself from your sickly skin. Allowing the hand that clutched the lighter free reign to aim wherever it liked. You could see his face was contorted in on itself, red with agony. Mouth stretched open in a scream that fell on deaf ears. Your hands brought themselves up, the jet of fire continuing to spurt forth onto the man that desperately stumbled back. 

The man fell on his ass, his pants set ablaze, his shirt starting to follow suit. You didn't remember moving, suddenly your feet were besides his head and you were bent down. Spraying the fire directly into his face.

You couldn't look away from the sight. His flesh becoming engulfed in the flames that climbed across and danced upon his skin. Beneath the thick layer of burning yellow you could see his skin contort, the tanned skin melting, oozing over itself and revealing spots of pink and red. Bubbles of skin, opening cavities of flesh and melted skin grew under the fire. His eyes were wide and aware of the pain, he didn't close them as the flames sunk into them. His iris's color was unclear under the bright yellows and oranges. They blindly darted about as the fire sunk further into the windows to his soul.

The scent was sweet yet putrid. A nauseating mix of barbecued beef and leather. It was a thick scent that felt damp inside your nose, when you breathed in through your mouth you could taste hints of salt, smoke, and charred meat. 

A quick flash of white light tore your gaze from the hypnotic fire and melting skin. You whipped your wild gaze to the source, dropping your makeshift weapon of destruction. In a quaking hand, flames climbing up his arm, the man held a gun. He tried to shoot you. 

There was another flash, you felt no pain. His hand could hardly steady the gun as the flames licked at his hand. A foot quickly smashed into the hand. It opened, falling into the grass with little resistance. You tore over to it, the static vibrating and rattling through your skull.

You felt the sweat sticking to your skin, the humid heat radiating off of the man's writhing body, and the weight of the weapon in your palm. Clasping your other hand around the guns handle, a finger shot out, wrapping itself around the trigger. It didn't take much force to squeeze the trigger, forcing a bullet from the gun's muzzle. You didn't have to aim, the man was feet away, wriggling on the ground. Grass starting to set itself alight beside his body.

The gun snapped back in your shaking hands, the recoil dragging some thoughts from your brain. There was satisfaction there, taking everything out on something that could die. There was satisfaction in truly hurting something. To feel completely in control of a situation. To feel powerful. Your lips twitched up into a smile.

Your aching wrists quickly recovered, the sudden satisfaction urging you to shoot the burning pile of clothing and meat again. You couldn't wrap your head around the fact that the thing burning before you was human. It didn't look human at all. It looked like a ball of fire an a melted and charring red marshmallows. 

The gun kicked back once more, a flash of white blocking your view from the burning pile of skin and bone for a moment. The bullet forced its way into the mass that was his body. There was a small explosion of hot boiling blood and chunks of flesh, flying through the air.

It was the blood that woke you. The blood that splattered in your face felt like lava. The buzzing began to subside as you stumbled back with a scream. Your sticky hand flew up to your face, the static dissipating completely as the roaring of flames burst through your ears.

You backed away from the flame, suddenly very aware of the sickening heat. Suddenly all too aware of the heavy weight in your hands. With wild eyes you looked down at the shaking hand that held onto the gun. 

_What have you done?_

It happened so fast, it was like a gut reaction. It was like your soul had left your body. Your body with free rein allowed itself to lose control. Allowed itself to senselessly murder. 

The first time you killed someone there was a reason, a shitty one, but a reason nonetheless. The man wasting away before you was mindless slaughter. There was fear behind it, being in a constant struggle for your life, but there was an overwhelming emptiness to it. You couldn't explain it.

As thoughts raced and tears spilled your lungs screamed. Wet rattling coughs ripped through your throat. You began stumbling away from the crackling fire that began to crawl across the grass towards you. You stopped a moment, doubling over, hands on your knees as you heaved out fat chunks of blood from your open mouth. The fire grew closer and you forced your still hacking body backwards.

_How could you?_

After all the senseless slaughter you'd seen them do, that you'd seen them enjoy. What gave you the right to do that to another human being? You destroyed everything the man was and ever would be. You didn't even know his name. 

Your dry eyes stung as tears crawled their way from your wide eyes and down your cheeks. Your throat felt raw, blood and phlegm dripping from your lips as the coughing subsided.

_What was that?_

The buzzing that left your mind blank and nerves sensitive to every little movement. It was like a nest of angry bees were swarming around you. A disorienting angry hum that overpowered everything else. 

Stumbling back from the burning lawn, you fell back into the road. You landed on your ass with an, _"Oof!"_ You sat, legs lazily splayed out in front of you, watching the lump of what once was a man burn. You didn't know what to say. You didn't know what to do.

You didn't deserve freedom, but you'd fought tooth and nail for it. You'd done everything in your power to keep on living. That led you to where you were, sitting on your ass watching a body that you set alight burn. You should be locked up for good but you couldn't stand the thought. As much as you deserved it, you also had a sick sense that you earned your freedom. You couldn't just let all that fighting for your life go to waste, you should live out your life. However, you were now an even bigger murderer then before. A danger to society. You didn't belong in jail but you didn't deserve to go free either.

You hadn't noticed it while watching the body disappear into the building flames. You'd landed on your ass right in front of a mini-van. The car was still running, its engine softly purring. You turned your head and read the license plate, ' _B4K3R'._ You remembered the day the plate came in the mail. Mr.Baker paid top dollar for the thing and was ecstatic about it. Your breath hitched in your throat as you shakily stood, it couldn't be. 

Part of you was expecting to see Dan or Jen behind the wheel, that was the wishful thinking of a hysterical fool. He was opening the car door but you could see his mask. The once polished porcelain was charred black where the stream of flames first hit it. Its surface no longer shiny, but matte and distorted. Its nose melted down and hardened at an awkward angle, its now down turned eyebrows gave its neutral expression one of melancholy, its lips awkwardly sagging, covered in hardened black bubbles. 

The roar of what you knew as Brian's motorcycle rung through your ears. As Masky got out of the mini-van, you looked over his shoulder too see his companion riding up the scene. The ' _thunk'_ of the passenger side door to the mini-van alerted you to Toby's presence. 

They found you again. There was no escaping death.

As Brian slowed his motorcycle to a stop beside the mini-van, you began backing away from the car. The roaring fire beside you bathing everyone in a flickering yellow glow. 

Their shadows danced behind them as they began their approach. The static was gone but there was another sound that pierced the air, the distant wailing of sirens. 

You had two choices before you. Get horribly murdered, letting them win or get arrested and waste away behind bars.

"I didn't expect him to take interest in her." Masky's words were even, yet filled with hate, an underlying unwavering discontent. "He knows that she's ours, the bastard."

You didn't know what he was talking about and you could care less. Your disoriented, guilt ridden, mind was whispering things to you. Another option.

"Muh-maybe," Toby inched away from the blazing fire but not as set off by them as he'd earlier been, "Ssshuh-she's his replacement?" He rolled his neck to side, falling in step with Hoodie, his wrists cracking repetitively.

The man's hood was back atop his head but his mask still revealed a single hazel eye. It held an unreadable emotion. **"No. He took you two years after he died. He doesn't technically need another."**

"We still have to respect his _choice."_ Masky spat behind his contorted mask. 

Your choice was becoming clearer. 

Every step they took forward, you took back, your foot nudging the scorched body, "I kuhh-know but I'm stuh-still upset over my dibs. She's muh-mine." Toby growled, googles focused on your slowly retreating form, one arm reaching for the hatchets at his side.

**"We can't kill her for now. He usually doesn't take long to consider."** Hoodie informed the brunette who was rolling his shoulder back. **"He rarely actually goes completely through with _it._ There's a good chance we still can," **His modulated voice didn't hide his contempt for you, **"Kill her. We'll just have to wait."**

The gun weighed heavy in your hands. You couldn't tear your eyes away from it to look at the approaching men. It made you feel disgusting and inhuman for what you'd done with it. It was also your only real escape. You wouldn't let them have the satisfaction of killing you. You wouldn't rot away behind bars.

_"I want to kill her. Now."_ Toby growled, momentarily ceasing his ticking. You couldn't see his eyes but you knew he was still upset over whatever set him off the night before.

 **"You can wait."** Hoodie sounded like a parent, a parent that was currently drawing a gun from his hoodie pocket.

You cracked a smile, cocking a brow, raising your own gun. 

_"Don't fucking resist."_ Masky snarled, dragging his crowbar across the pavement. The low scraping sound was grading on your poor abused ears.

You smiled wider, eyeing him with a half-lidded gaze. "Don't know what the fuck you're talking about but," You swung the gun up to the side of your head," None of you are going to get the fucking honor of killing me." You pressed the guns muzzle into the side of your head, cold steel digging into your hair.

This was the best way out. 

You continued backing away, a slow and lazy gait. "Ya'know, never imagined that I'd kill myself, but you motherfuckers are so unbearable to be around. So unbearable, in fact that being around ya makes me wanna put a bullet through my fucking skull." You barked out a humorless laugh. You couldn't stop crying. 

You missed your dog. You missed not having blood on your hands. You missed your chance to live a good life with Jen. 

"Can you stop walkin' towards me?" You commented, the gun rattling against your scalp. "I'm trying to have a moment here and I don't want you ugly fucks being in proximity ruining my vibe." You can't believe in late night texts with Sully where you called them Daddy, accompanied with an obnoxious amount of semi-ironic emojis. "Let me think of some cool last words for a second, God damn." Your snicker was hollow, the only thing you could be happy over is that your death would be quick and a spit in the face to the men.

"Brian." Masky's command was cool, despite the blazing fire only feet away, despite the sirens that grew closer by the second. 

**"I'm already on it."** You could hear the soft ' _click_ ' of his guns safety being turned off. 

"Oh-ho-ho, no you're fuckin' not!" You laughed, the heat of the flames you walked along side drying your tears. "Uhmm," You racked your brain, watching Hoodie carefully point his gun your way, "Last words, last words." You did your best to steady your shaky hand, ghosting your finger over the trigger. "Ah! Got it!" You were smiling too much for a walking corpse.

"I regret everything!" Not entirely true but you could have led a good life if you just listened to Jen. If you didn't ride in the Baker family mini-van that night. If there was an afterlife you wondered if she waiting for you. Would she forgive you for everything? Would you start anew in a vast eternity together? Was she waiting in hell for you, waiting to hold you in her melting arms and die over and over? Or was there nothing waiting for you? Either way, it was better then this. "Except!" Your eyes burned, your torn flesh throbbed, your muscles ached, "For every single fucking time I hurt your stupid asses." You gave them a fake sugary sweet smile. 

You didn't have much time, Hoodie was aiming for you. You believed for your head, you'd beat him to the punch.

_"Fuck off."_ With one last spite fueled message of hate, you pulled the trigger.

_Click_

 _"No."_ You weren't consumed into eternal darkness. The gun was still heavy in your sweaty hands. The blazing lawn still heated your sickly skin. Your brains weren't on the pavement.

You pulled the trigger again, it had to be a one time fluke.

_Click_

 _"No, no, no, no."_ You chanted, it was a two time fluke.

_Click_

"Poor bitch, I almost feel bad for her." Masky sighed, they were still coming. You stopped backing away when you first pulled the trigger. You pulled it again.

_Click_

And again.

_Click_

The gun was either out of ammo or jammed. 

**_B A N G !_**

Your skin rattled and burned from the sudden force that threw the gun from your hand. Hoodie's gun was smoking, working. You heard your faulty weapon clatter to the pavement behind you. Gut churning anger and jealousy filled you, it had just worked when you shot the man's burning body. Now it was useless and gone from your grip, smoking on the grass where Hoodie had shot it.

You barked out a hysterical laugh, there was always fire. It would hurt worse then you could ever imagine. Smoke would fill your lungs, your skin would melt and boil, you would scream and writhe. It was far from ideal but it was still a death on your terms.

The trio of men towered over you, only feet away. 

" _Oh what-the-fuck-ever!"_ You cackled. You didn't notice until the blood passed your lips into your mouth that your nose was bleeding. It didn't matter.

You threw yourself towards the flames, flying through the air. You mentally preparing yourself for the world of hurt you were just about to enter. You didn't think you'd ever be fully ready to melt your skin, let your lungs fill with smoke, and writhe in agony as your blood boiled in your veins.

The fire never met your body as two hands yanked you back, you herd the clatter of metal on the pavement before hearing, " _Oh no you don't!"_ Masky snarled as he reeled you away from the crackling flames. Screeching as he hurled you over his shoulder, your stomach banging into his shoulder. You dry heaved at the force, tears spilling from your eyes. 

"Brian, make sure the cops don't follow us," For once he sounded like an actual leader other then a bumbling idiot with anger management issues, "We'll rendezvous at the edge of town." 

As you clawed at the back of Masky's flannel with your filthy hands, you heard heavy footsteps walk away from you both. Your panicked mind didn't piece together what was going on, all you knew is that you were on a murderer's shoulder and you weren't having it He was touching you and your skin was burning. Kicking and screaming as the revving of a motorcycles engine tore through your ears, mixing with the roaring flame and approaching sirens. 

"Toby," You don't remember Masky ever calling the boy by his first name, "The door. Make sure the dog doesn't get out." The man carrying you commanded the boy you couldn't see. All you could see was the back of his black and red flannel, the one he'd donned when he acted like a normal human being. It made you sick.

"Guh-got it." The sliding of the mini-vans door opening filled your ears. You'd heard it so many times back in the day, back when everything was okay. Back when Jen was alive. 

"Here." Masky grunted before rolling you off of his shoulder, partially tossing your flailing body into the mini-van.

_"Let me go!"_ You screeched as you were practically thrown into Toby's arms. Masky slid the door shut, distorted mask staring you down as he did so. Toby held you by your sides from behind his fingers digging into your skin. You threw your elbows back at him, growling. " _Just fuck off already!"_

"Nuh-no can do." You were slammed into the leather chair. The back of your head hitting the firm leather so hard that it made your head spin. You think you heard Masky throw himself into the driver's seat.

The car suddenly lurched forwards as you recovered from your dazed state. Toby stumbled and quickly steadied himself, towering before your sitting form. You brought up a foot, he left his crotch wide open. A gloved hand snatched the sole of your filthy sneaker, with a click of his tongue Toby began,"That's-suh not very nice."

_"Fuck you!"_ You screamed, clawing at the chairs armrests, trying to stand inside of the moving vehicle. The car swerved to the side, making your head and torso swing into the isle between the two seats. A soft panting caught your attention from behind, you whipped your head around. In the back row of seats sat Goober on a mountain of pillows and blankets, looking perfectly content with himself.

" _You brought my dog!?"_ You didn't exactly know how to feel about your dog being happy around the men who ruined your life. He was a comforting presence but his unintentional negligence left you a little hurt.

Toby grabbed you by the shoulder, he'd released your foot without your notice. Then, snapping you back into your seat and pushing you into the leather. His free hand swung across your vision a soft, ' _Vvvvrrr'_ filling your ears. The motherfucker was trying to buckle you in. " _What the fuck!?"_ Was all you could say as the soft ' _click'_ of the seat belt being secured met your ears. 

You had no idea where their sudden change of heart came from but you weren't having it. You don't just go from trying to gut someone to buckling them in to secure their safety. 

"Just knock her out already!" Masky hissed from the drivers seat, the cars engine roaring as it picked up speed. 

"No!" You screamed, hands flying to undo the seat belt, you had to get out of here. You may have just tried to kill yourself in one of the worst ways possible but it was a death on your own terms. You weren't going to let them torture you or whatever horrible shit they had in mind. 

"Stuh-stay still." Toby grunted, capturing both your wrists in on hand without a problem. You wriggled back, pressing into the chair, trying to pull your sweaty skin from the course fabric of his gloves. 

"No! Fuck you!" You repeated your earlier hate filled sentiments. "Eat shit and die!" You jerked your wrists about snarling. 

"Rude." The boy clicked his tongue at you while his free hand reached for a hatchet. 

Gasping, you kicked at his shins but he took the blows like a champ, not even flinching or recoiling back. 

"Hurry up back there! I'm tired of hearing her stupid fucking voice!" Masky snapped from the drivers seat.

"Yuh-yeah, yeah, one suh-sec." Toby spun the hatchet in his hand, its blunt side facing you. His orange googles reflected your pathetic struggle back at you, it only made you angrier. 

"Don't you fucking dare!" You barked at the boy, thrashing every which way in a desperate attempt to escape. 

"Ooh, scary," Toby let out an amused huff from his nose, rearing the dull metal back,"Nighty-night!" As he chirped out those horrible words, he brought the blunt end of hit hatchet down on your skull.

**_Bonk!_**


	17. 16 - You're So Stupid

_Laughter rang through the air. It was a simple idea but it brought you all together. The TV blared a crescendoing scale of musical notes, signifying that you were on the final lap._

_"Come on (Y/n)! Beat his ass!" Henry cheered you on from his seat deep in the couch, selfishly clutching the bag of chips. He jokingly refused to share them._

_"Hey!" Alexis whined, the controller foreign in her hands, "Slow down! I still don't know how to steer." The screen was divided in fourths, the Princess Peach in a pink car that sat on the bottom left of the screen spun in desperate circles._

_You and Jen's digital vehicles were neck and neck. She playfully bumped her shoulder into yours, giggling. She'd never been too good at video games, didn't even like them that much. This was for her brothers enjoyment not hers. She was still having a wonderful time though, laughing and smiling._

_You don't exactly know how Alexis did it, drag Dan downstairs from his room to hang out with everyone. The past few weeks he was either in his room or completely off the grid. He'd been even more of an asshole and even more distant. She did it somehow, calling Henry over to further lighten the mood. She let you and Jen join their night of fun with a slight scowl but you could practically see the gears turning in her head. Dan may have hated you both but tonight was for his own good, maybe you both could help._

_The digital Waluigi that Jen was controlling slipped and spun on a banana peel. "Aw man." She playfully huffed as you finally surpassed her._

_"Loser." You smiled at her, the insult insincere. She bumped you on the should again, sticking her tongue out._

_"You're all about to be losers." Dan's words sounded abrasive but you could hear the smile in his voice. He always liked winning. Usually he'd be an ass about winning though, unapologetically rubbing it in others faces. Today he melted into the relaxed atmosphere and hadn't sincerely insulted you in almost an hour. A record._

_"Not if I have anything to say about it!" You pressed your thumb harder into the joystick, willing for Luigi to go faster._

_"Get his ass!" Henry called from the couch with a laugh._

_By a stroke of luck, you got ahold of a red shell. Once it was released, it was like a heat syncing missile for the player in front of you. "Byyyyye!" You drawled, releasing the red shell Dan's way. It flew towards the back of his digital car, smacking it from behind. His car flipped over, Bowser letting out a obnoxious yelp of surprise and his wiimote loudly vibrating in his hands. He quickly recovered just as you caught up with him._

_"Oh? You wanna go?" Dan challenged you, bumping his much larger car into your puny go-kart._

_"Hell yeah I do!" You couldn't help but smile. You hated Dan with almost every fiber of your being, but tonight he was okay. When Dan was happy, Jen was happy. Depending on if he was being an asshole or not. You and Dan getting along was a once in a blue moon sight, you knew Jen was watching with wide eyes and a cheeky grin._

_The finish line was quickly approaching, you and Dan were neck and neck. It was anyone's game._

_"Come on (Y/n)!" Jen cheered you on, you pressed your finger into the controller even harder._

_"Dan! Win for me!" Alexis was still mindlessly spinning her digital car in circles, mostly watching you and Dan now._

_Dan was in the lead, then you were. Back and forth all the way to the finish line._

_Dan overtook you at the very last second. The TV blasted a obnoxious noise of victory._

_"Woohoo!" Dan threw his hands in the air, loosely holding his controller._

_"Good game?" You weren't upset that you lost, nothing could dampen the light hearted and fun atmosphere around you. You held out a hand, palm open, looking for a high five to signify your temporary peace._

_Dan looked to you, slightly dumbfounded. With a smile, he brought down a hand to meet yours. Your skin met and there wasn't a hint of malice. It didn't hurt, it made you smile._

_"Good ga-" He had an easy smile on his face as he spoke before his face morphed into an unreadable expression. Maybe it was panic, as he slapped a hand over his mouth, his body shook as he let out wet sounding coughs. At first it seemed like your run of the mill coughing fit but it kept going and going. You could see blood seep in between his fingers, his eyes screwed shut in agony._

_"Dan?" You asked, as he dropped his controller, slapping his newly freed hand over his other._

_"Hey man, are you alright?" Henry shifted from his seat on the couch, setting the chips down._

_"Daniel?" Jen leaned towards her brother, reaching a hand for his shaking form._

_He slapped her hand away she he shot to his feet. Coughs still wracking though his body. You couldn't make out what he was saying through all the raspy coughs._

_"Babe? You good?" Alexis began to stand from the floor. Her boyfriend didn't acknowledge her at all. Instead he turned on his heel and ran for the front door. He tore it open, not closing it behind him as he disappeared into the night._

_No one could get ahold of him for the rest of the night._

**\----**

The soft rattling against your scalp slowly pulled you from your sleep. Your crusty eyes peeled open, your view was comprised with a rainy window and the seat in front of you. The back of a head sat in the seat in front of you, hair slightly disheveled. You knitted your brows together. Your eyes lazily glided out of the window, the world outside passed as a blur or asphalt and humble looking mom and pop shops. You didn't know where you were.

"Huh?" You peeled your spinning head from the window, blinking slowly, your voice hoarse and grating to your ears. 

"Hey look at you! Finally awake!" A voice called from in front of you. You slowly turned your head, still not entirely awake.

What you saw woke you up real quick. You thought it was Tim leaning around the front passenger seat, talking to you but you couldn't fully recognize him. The bottom half his nose was sunken unnaturally in, his left cheek looked like his flesh had been pulled back and hit over and over by a meat tenderizer, red and bumpy and raw. His skin wasn't smooth and uniform, it was warped, looking like it had melted and hardened. Most of his face was the one you came to know but some of his face wasn't all there, his left eye was swollen shut and red, eyebrows singed off. 

_"Jesus Christ!"_ You hissed, head roiling back in disgust and surprise. You would have thought he'd be completely healed by now. The fire really did a number on him.

Tim snickered, the melted flesh of his left cheek shifted oddly,"Imagine how I felt when you melted my fuckin' face." He was taking satisfaction in your distress but he still spat the words bitterly. You still didn't feel bad for it.

You jumped forward, awake and ready to escape. The seat belt secured tightly around your torso jerked you back after maybe an inch of movement from you, the force knocking the air out of your lungs. Your wrists screamed with the sudden movement, no fucking way. You looked down to your burning wrists to find them tightly bound. The (s/c) skin around the ropes held a deep red hue from the irritation. 

"What?" You spat the word out dumbly. Memories of the past few hours of your life flooding back all at once.

"Huh-hey you're up-puh!" The sickeningly cheerful voice chirped beside you, you turned your gaze from your restraints to the boy sat in the chair beside yours. The isle leading to the back row of seat separating you both. He no longer donned his googles nor face mask. His hair sticking every which way, his hood resting on his shoulders. Deep bags beneath his eyes, he looked like he hadn't slept in over forty-eight hours. He looked like shit as you watched him stretch his arms in a way you couldn't, popping his shoulder loudly a few times. 

"Oh Christ, now he's up too. Here we fucking go." Tim huffed, blowing dark hair out of his mutilated face. He spun back into his seat, his melted face no longer turned to you.

"Shuh-shut the fuck up, Timuh-Timothy." Toby snarled at the man, he wasn't wearing his bandage. You could see his tongue and teeth move with his words. 

You didn't have time to be any more disgusted over the men, you had to get out of here. Your tore your gaze from the boy, eyes shooting the to lock on your seat, sitting beside your thigh. 

"Don't try it." Brian deadpanned, you were hoping he was talking to his companions and not you. You inched your restrained hands towards the lock. "Doors are child locked," He was talking to you from the drivers seat, "We're going too fast for you to live if you jump out of the car anyway."

His back was turned to you, his eyes were on the road. How did he know? You stared dumbfounded at the back of his head, hands returning unsure to your lap.

"I can see you." The statement was simple but it sent a chill down your spine. He didn't elaborate as you shot your gaze to the rear view mirror. You made intense eye contact through the mirror, your jaw hung open. Your rear view mirror should be used to look at incoming cars behind you, not to keep an eye on your captive. That's just bad driving.

You closed your mouth, swallowing a lump in your throat. You looked away from the man. A tense air settled over the car. You didn't want to move, not wanting to die.

You still couldn't believe yourself: holding a gun to your head, trying to throw yourself into fire. All out spite. You didn't want to die. You weren't suicidal, but in the moment your psyche caved in on itself. Creating a horrible black hole that sucked away your common sense. That entire morning was one big meltdown. You don't know where you went wrong. You don't completely know why you killed that man. His touch was like simple yet violating and you just reacted. You felt like you weren't in control of yourself while you were also hyper aware of what you were doing. There was a mental disconnect you could not explain away so easily, you could almost hear the static in your ears as you thought about it, feel the buzzing just below your skin.

"Boof!" Goobers soft bark pulled you from your thoughts. The seat belt was too tight around your torso for you to lean across the chair and look to the back row of chairs. 

"Why did you take my dog?" You couldn't help but ask, the thick tension grating on your brain. You didn't want to think despite all the thinking you had to do about your actions. You were also incredibly curious.

" _My dog."_ Brian urged, flicking on the cars blinker. 

"Excuse me?" You spat at him, eyes boring into the back of the drivers seat.

Brian didn't respond, cryptic and quiet as always, but somehow still a dickhead.

"Dog puh-person." Toby informed after a beat of uncomfortable silence. "Really likes the things," Toby turned to the back seat with a neutral expression, "Likes the dog. Hates huh-his name." 

Your self preservation skills once again proved to be lacking,"Goober is a good name! It's fitting!" Goober was a sweet boy but he was kind of gross. Every morning he'd have thick boogers around his eyes. 

"Eeehhhh, it's pretty shit." Tim spoke from the front seat, not sounding convinced. You reminded yourself even if he liked Goobers name there was no way in hell he'd tell you that. He wanted to get under your skin. 

Too bad you weren't very good at taking the highroad, "No it fucking isn't!" You snapped glaring at the back of his chair.

"It's-suh pretty stuh-stupid." When you turned your head to the boy, he had a mischievous grin on his face, his legs crossed. His ruined cheek seeming to open up even more with the movement of his facial muscles. You wondered why that wound wasn't healing like Tim's facial burns. Then again, they were all freaks and their bodily functions were none of your business. 

You pulled your lips into an unamused line, you were really trying not to give him a reaction but you couldn't help it. These motherfuckers made you so mad. Huffing, you peeled your eyes from the smiling boy. His smile only worsened your mood. They ruined your life, tried to kill you on multiple occasions, and now had to gall to insult the cute name you'd come up with for your dog. You still didn't know why they took you.

Talking to the men who killed with a smile wasn't a hot idea to you. You were genuinely curious, as well as a little pissed. "What's the deal?" They were smart enough to figure out what you meant. 

With a huff, Tim began, not turning his ugly face to you,"You're being _considered."_

Well that was vague and ominous!

"For?" You urged him to continue, leaning as far forward you could in your restraints; you hated talking to them but more information on your situation is always useful.

_" **He's**_ taken interest in ya. Does that sometimes," Tim sighed, "Wish he didn't fuckin' do that when we were just about to kill your stupid ass." He reared his ugly face your way, you cringed at his delight, trying not to feel sick at the way his skin seemed to glisten. "It'll be fine though," You wanted to wipe that stupid, smug smile off his burnt chicken nugget looking ass face, "He'll lose interest soon enough. When he does, we're gonna have _so much fun together."_ He was out of your kicking range, unfortunately.

"What the fuck does that even mean?" You knit your brows together. Part of you said he was fucking with you, lying to you, that they'd kill you any second. The other part of you said whatever he was talking about was scarier than they'd ever be, that there was something out of their control. 

Tim shook his head at your cluelessness, "You'll be in our company for a little while. Get used to seeing this _lovely_ face more often." As you stared at him, you could see his melted skin slowly shifting back into place. It was barely noticeable.

His smile was maddening, anger got the best of you, "Lovely?" You barked out a mocking laugh, glaring at the man, "You look a forty year old, washed up, conservative Facebook page running, divorced dad."

You smiled as his smile turned to a frown, he was too easy.

"Wuh-what the fuck is a Facebook?" Toby cut though the short lived tension between you and Tim. Toby looked to be roughly your age, how did he not know what Facebook was?

Tim ignoring his younger companions question, glared at you, "Well, you still trusted this face," He shot you a sickly sweet smile, "Dumb ass." He added the insult, rubbing salt in the fresh wound of his betrayal. If you could set him on fire again, you would.

Snarling, you were the only one allowed to call yourself stupid, he didn't have to right, "Turn that ugly face back the fuck around. You look like shit. I wonder why?" You were playing with fire.

"Brian, pull over." Tim snapped his head towards his partner who was calmly listening to your exchange. "Let me teach this little bitch a fucking lesson!" He spat through grit teeth.

Your heart thundered in your chest, now you'd done it. As your breath audibly hitched in your throat, Toby snickered at your visible alarm. You refused to apologize to save your own skin. You had no dignity but you had your pride and spite.

Brian let out a long almost inaudible sigh, "We don't have time for that. I want to be home as soon as possible."

"I'll be quick!" Tim argued before realizing, "Oh! Or I could just climb back there." He grabbed the side of his seat with a hand, the other going to unbuckle his seat belt.

Brian shook the steering wheel back and forth, making the car quickly rock back and forth,"Don't. It'll be too distracting."That was relieving, but you couldn't relax. 

"Because you want to watch me beat her ass, huh?" Tim began to shift back to into his seat, sending you one last infuriating smirk as he did.

Brian's lack of response was worrying. You feared for your safety the entire time you'd been awake. When you got where ever home was, you were probably in for a world of hurt. You swallowed the thick lump in your throat as silence settled over the car once more.

Tim huffed, placated by the fact he could beat you up later, "Whatever. We've all been through a lot." You could hear the bitter rage in his tone, he wasn't happy you'd gotten the best of him. "I'm not gonna let your fucking grade school insults get under my skin. We've dealt with worse." His words implied some sort of deep dark history between himself and his partners.

You opened your mouth to say 'who asked, tiny dick?'. You didn't care about whatever tragic backstories these murderers who ruined your life had. You knew Tim didn't take insults very well, he almost lost his mind when you said his dick was small; you wanted to open old wounds. 

_"Brian died!"_ Toby yelled as soon as Tim had stopped. You jumped, not expecting someone to speak so loudly and so randomly.

"What?" You couldn't help but ask, maybe you did care about this one fact. He claimed Brian had died but he was right in front of you, alive and sadly well.

"Toby! Don't fucking tell her that!" Tim snapped from his seat, sounding like an annoyed mother. His temper back with the press of a button.

"Shuh-she's being considered!" Toby chirped, looking at you with a smile you wouldn't exactly call warm, "Even if shuh-she's rejected it doesn't mmmm-matter! She'll be duh-duh-dead!" His earlier exclamation of Brian's death sounded childish but now his tone took a playfully sinister tone. 

"Yeah, no fucking shit! But still!" Tim huffed as the car rolled up to a red light. You wondered if anyone saw your predicament through the car windows, if you looked like you were being held hostage by a trio of men. Then again, your wrists were on your lap, out of view from the glass. "You can't just tell her shit like that, idiot!" 

Toby frowned, not looking surprised by the insult. He took in a deep breath, maybe one to calm his nerves. "We're not alah-allowed to kill you while he's consuh-considering you." Toby snapped his head to you with a ' _pop',_ rolling his shoulders back.

"Toby." Brian's deadpan was much more intimidating than Tim's near constant barking.

_"Rogers you stupid ass! Are you fucking serious!?"_ Tim whipped his head around the seat again, snarling at the brunette. 

Toby shrugged with a toothy grin, his scarred flesh moving with the smile. "You shu-shouldn't have cuh-called me an idiot then! I'll suh-say what I want!" They sounded like two feuding siblings. The dysfunctional semi-domesticity made you sick.

"Wait," You were so lost, that hit to head must have scrambled your brains, "He died?"

You shouldn't have been engaging with them but you couldn't help it, you had a big mouth that had problems keeping shut. And if he had died before, could he be killed again? Was there a way you could permanently get rid of these fuckers?

"None of your business!" Tim sneered, turning his gnarled yet healing face your way.

"Tim killed me." Brian said with an amused huff. The car lurching around a corner. 

"Brian!" Tim snapped, throwing his head towards his partner. He seemed to be having a horrible day. 

Toby started to cackle, slapping his thighs as he threw his head back. You could see the inside of his opposite cheek through the gash in his face. Exposed gums and off-white teeth. It was grotesque. 

"Shut up! Shut the fuck up!" Tim didn't sound as truly angry but he still sounded pretty miffed. He was already angry with you and you wanted to live to see tomorrow so you let the scene play out, for once using your better judgement. 

"Well, it's true." Brian affirmed, with a lazy shrug of his shoulders. They had to be fucking with you or maybe Brian legally died in surgery one time or something. You didn't get these assholes. Their words melted into a petty argument that you began to tune out. You'd rather think about something else. You turned to the window, letting the passing blur of greens and grays take you away.

You killed a man. Killing for the second time in your life. Once was enough murder for a lifetime, but now you added another body to the count. You attempted to add a third in the form of your own. You wondered if the gang was watching from somewhere better, maybe somewhere shittier. Were they disappointed in you? The choices that led you to be sitting in the Baker mini-van, wrists tied and seat belt way too tight. You thought more about them now that they were all dead more then you had in the three years since leaving Tuscaloosa. It was probably because they were all brutally murdered before your eyes, except Dan but you knew of his fate and it wasn't pretty.

You tried to be a good person. You tried to smile at strangers and be nice to children. You tried to loosely atone for your sins. All that got you was here. Everything led you to where you sat: a guilty, red-handed, really hot, and funny sinner. You were one to look on the bright side, an optimist. You were resilient as all hell but there was a thought looming in the back of your mind: no matter what choices you'd made, you would have always ended up here. It was fucking depressing, you wanted to think about something else.

You couldn't quite wrap your mind around what Tim had told you. He could just be fucking with you, making you think you had more time to live, more time to escape, giving you a false sense of hope when you truly had nothing. Then he'd pull the wool from your eyes in the form of a knife to the gut or whatever fucked up plan they had for your end. There was the possibility of him telling the truth, they were all unnatural freaks. What's one more thing to add to the list of freaky shit about them? Either way, you didn't know what being considered meant and you wanted no part in it. You didn't know who _he_ was or why he was interested in you. If his supposed interest saved your miserable excuse for a life though, he's okay in your book. 

Then it hit you. If **_he_ **is actually real, and not them fucking with you, then they have some sort of boss. Well, more like something they work with or follow. Something more powerful and more unstoppable than them. You felt with the little bits of vague information you had that calling whatever he was a boss wasn't the right phrase. It had to be more than that.

A hand clutched your shoulder, _touch._ You gasped, jumping out of your skin while your muscles stiffened. You whipped around the best you could in your restraints. Body awakening from your thoughts, heart thumping, blood rushing, skin throbbing. 

Toby's face was inches from yours, too close for the kind of relationship you both had. Which was that of predator and prey, you didn't want anyone that close to your face unless they had good intentions, like a tender kiss or sweetly brushing your hair out of your eyes. Toby was anything but tender and you hated his guts; wanting him dead as a door nail for what he did to the Baker siblings.

His breath was hot on your face as he laughed at your distress. You were going to make him regret that. You stared him down, trying to inch your head back as unnoticeably as possible. He just kept on laughing at you. Jackass. 

Throwing your head forward with a grunt, jerking against your seat belt, you smashed your forehead into his. Your skulls crashing together sent a horrible rattle though your body, you recoiled back with a pained cry. It hurt but it was worth it to harm him. Your forehead pounded in fresh pain, it took you a few moments to peel your eyes open as they'd been screwed shut in your momentary agony. 

With a smile on your lips, you batted your (e/c) eyes open; expecting to see the man further away, a hand on his forehead to nurse the pain. Instead, he was in the same spot, head cocked to the side and brows raised at your ballsy attempt. 

His lips curled into a smirk as he let out a breathy laugh from his nose. "What was that suuh-supposed to do?" His head snapped even more to the side as he involuntarily grimaced in a tic. He quickly returned his head back to where it once was, his shit eating grin back upon his features.

"Hurt you." You spat, curling your lips back into a snarl. Not being very satisfied with the lack of reaction on his part 

"You're really stuh-stupid, huh?" He said with a smirk and you snarled at his proximity, you'd make him get away and pay for his little comment. 

Your feet hadn't been bound by some stroke of luck. You reared a foot back and smashed the heel of your shoe directly into his shin as hard as you could. He looked down to his shin, your foot still pushing into his jeans.

"Really really stuh-stupid." His shoulders softly bounced, he was laughing at you. You removed your foot from his shin only to slam it into his leg once more. He didn't flinch. "I mean, I can wait fuh-for you tuh-tuh-to figure it out. You won't guh-get to eat but if yuh-you want to keep at it, thuh-then go crazy."

That made you stop your pathetic assault on his leg, reluctantly lowering your foot to the floor. You were suddenly very aware of how empty your stomach was. You were stupid, bullheaded, senseless, but you did understand your body's basic needs. If you were going to keep fighting, then you'd need energy and you get that from food. 

"Got it ah-all outta you sisss-system?" Toby rolled his shoulders back, finally scooting away from you. 

"Maybe." You snidely responded, you had not. 

Toby let out an amused huff, throwing himself into his seat. You were jealous of the free rein he had to move around. Your hands felt prickly and full of static. As you moved your head to look at the man who supposedly had food, you noticed two obvious vacancies, you should have known by the silence from Tim. The front seats were unoccupied, you couldn't hear the cars engine. Through the windshield, you could see the inside of some sort of restaurant. Your eyes flicked to a colorful advertisement plastered on the window, _'Big Mac's now 2.99!'_ You were at McDonald's. 

The window that allowed a limited view of the inside showed you the place was packed. If only its occupants knew of the danger amongst them. You saw the top of what you thought was Brian's bright head of hair through the crowd, sitting at a booth. You vaguely recalled him wanting to go home as soon as possible. Maybe he needs a driving break and a homicidal manic's gotta eat.

"Here." Toby bent down in his seat, reaching into a large grease stained brown bag. He fished out a bright red box, two yellow arches sitting atop it, a happy meal. You stared at the box a moment in disbelief, did they think you were a child? It was an offensive yet fair assumption. "Catch!" He threw the box to you, it tumbled onto your restrained forearms. 

You didn't exactly want to ask for his help but how the fuck were you supposed to eat like this. Did he expect you to rip the thin cardboard with your teeth and shove your head in the box? You huffed, preparing to degrade the shit out of yourself. 

Hearing your exhale of distaste, Toby turned to you, pulling a wrapped burger from the bag. He snickered at your predicament and you shot him a glare. He set the wrapped food into the isle between you both, getting up from his seat. You scooted away from him in your seat. 

"Don't even thuh-think about it, dog." Toby snapped his head to Goober who still sat behind you. Goober let out a whine of disappointment but didn't make any moves to snatch the boys burger. Yet.

Returning his attention to you, he partially knelt down. He plucked the red box from your arms, placing it at your feet. Did he put the food on your lap just to put it somewhat out of reach? You'd lift it with your feet if you had to, you were starving. His gloved hands latched themselves onto the ropes that bound your wrists. You'd never seen his hands like you had with Tim or Brian's, he always donned the same grubby black gloves. Toby was kind of a weird psycho murderer, considering the short list of them you knew, so you didn't really question it. 

"Don't duh-do anything stuh-stupid." Toby eyed you a moment, looking up at you. The angle accentuated the bags beneath his eyes. "Don't make me bluh-bludgeon you to death in this Mcdonald's puh-parking lot." He yanked at the ropes on your wrists, tugging and pulling too rough for your liking. His touch was rough and clumsy, but not malicious. That was different. Your skin technically wasn't touching but knowing his skin was so close to yours filled you with disgust, your own skin crawling in response.

Your mind replayed the earlier information he spilled out to Tim's disdain, "I thought you couldn't kill me." You felt the slightest bit cocky over that possible truth, but not very much.

_"Oh, I can kill you anytime I want,"_ The seriousness in his voice sent a chill down your spine, "But I won't." He tugged on the ropes a bit too hard, causing them to grate against your already irritated skin. "I can stuh-still hurt you." He returned back to what you decided was his usual tone, tugging on the ropes sharply for emphasis. 

"Why?" You asked through gritted teeth, Tim already vaguely explained your circumstances but you couldn't wrap your head around it still.

"Man, you just get dumber buh-by the muh-moment." As the ropes loosened and slithered off of your wrists, blood began to flow back to your hands and you flexed your fingers in disbelief.

"I am not stupid." You shouldn't be arguing with him but you couldn't help but feeling a little irritated with his comment, rubbing your sore wrists lightly.

"Yes, you ah-are." Toby snickered, "You stuh-still haven't cuh-caught on."

"Caught onto what?" You wished he'd move away from you already, you weren't enjoying the proximity, the way he was looking up at you with that sick smile on his face. 

"See? Stuh-stupid." You needed your hands to eat but you were tempted to smack the smug smirk off of Toby's face. It took everything in you not to clock him. Reasoning that if you hit him one more time you'd break your fucking kneecaps.

That didn't stop you from being snotty, "I can't catch onto whatever the fuck you're talking about if there's nothing to catch onto." 

Toby looked mildly taken back, before cackling, throwing his head back, cracking his wrist repetitively, "Huh-holy shit! You are so stupid!" He left his throat open, you wanted to punch him in his Adam's apple. You had no idea what the fuck he found so funny but you didn't believe you were _that_ stupid. He bought his head back down, rolling a shoulder, "I can't feel any puh-puh-pain." He said it wait an air of condescension, like you were supposed to just know that. Well, it would explain a lot.

You thought he was lying anyway, "Bullshit." 

He raised his brows, smiling, "Ssuh-so I just brushed off being stabbed in the jugular?"

"You dropped me! Probably because it hurt like a bitch." You recalled the horrible encounter, you had got him good. 

"I let you go!" He chirped, pressing his gloved hands into his lap, "Brian wanted us to muh-make you think you had a chuh-chance of escape." He had to be lying, you won that encounter fair and square not because he allowed it.

"You freaks have brushed off all sorts of shit." You stated, glaring down the boy. Even while kneeling below your eye level he was intimidating as fuck. He wasn't as large as his partners but he was stronger than he looked.

"It stuh-still hurts. The others, not me though." Toby shrugged as if that was the simplest thing in the world, "Why don't you try me? See what happens." He leaned forward, smiling as he challenged you. He didn't sound very friendly. He sounded like he was setting you up to get your ass kicked.

You pulled your lips into a line, "I believe you." You spoke the words through grit teeth. Thinking back to when you tazed him in the throat and he instantly recovered, like it didn't even hurt. The most of a reaction he had from getting stabbed in the neck was to put a hand up to it, no scream, no falling back, he didn't even care. 

"Good!" He chirped, finally removing himself from your personal space. A soft crinkling sound filled the car as Toby began to turn. "Oops. Duh-dogs can eat hamburgers ruh-right?" He settled back into his seat. 

You were tempted to go for the seat belt lock in order to see the scene behind you. Goober always ate so obnoxiously especially when it was something he liked. You really could use the adorable visual at a shitty time like this. You didn't want to push the boundaries of freedom Toby had given you just yet. "He can."

Toby hummed, reaching into the bag once more. You focused at the red box at your feet, you couldn't lean forward to retrieve it. You put a foot on either side of it, arms reaching out as far as they could. With a soft grunt, you curled your legs up to your torso as much as they'd allow. You grabbed the warm box from between your feet. You were so fucking hungry.

The sound of a wrapper being torn open filled your ears, you were glad Toby didn't watch that. You opened the top of the box, still baffled as to why they got you a happy meal. You weren't going to complain, it's better than nothing. Inside the box sat a small heap of soggy french fries, a box boasting that it had four chicken nuggets, a little bag filled with apple slices, a tiny bottle of chocolate milk, and a colorful plastic toy. Your mouth was watering more than you'd like to admit. You grabbed a handful of the fries, quickly shoving them into your mouth.

"Whuh-what toy did you get?" You looked to a smug Toby, the bandage that you'd familiarized with 'normal person' Toby was covering the gash. You supposed it'd be pretty difficult to eat with a whole cheek gone.

You didn't appreciate being treated like a child but you'd answer him, out of fear for your kneecaps.

"Uhm." You grumbled with a still full mouth, putting your greasy hand back in the box. You grabbed the plastic figure, wrapped in clear plastic. You swallowed the fries as you brought the thing up to your face. In the clear wrapping sat a long, mostly flat oval of hard plastic. It had a horrible paint job but you could tell it was a clown. "A clown?" 

Toby snickered, "The clown guh-get's a clown." He looked away from you to take a bite of his burger. 

You were going to discard it back into the box when it hit you. If you were going to be with the men for the long haul, you were most definitely going to try to escape. The clown was hard plastic, it could be waddled down into a shiv. It wouldn't do much, but maybe if you got one of them in the eye they'd be too disoriented to give chase. While Toby was paying attention to his burger, you did your best to quietly slide the disc of a clown face into your pants pocket. You had to hold in a sigh of a relief as he didn't notice the soft crinkling of its wrapper as it entered your pockets. 

You threw your hand back into the box, feeling a little more confident in your slim chance of escape. You tore open the box containing the nuggets and threw one into your mouth. You quickly finished it off, popping in the next. Your stomach demanding more. 

The only thing you could hear was the sound of your own chewing, Toby munching away, and Goober sloppily eating a burger. Soon enough, your food supply diminished and you were down to the little jug of chocolate milk. It made you think of Doug, on every third Tuesday of the month he'd come in and drink only chocolate milk for hours. On you breaks you'd join him with a drink of your own choice. Good times.

You hadn't seen him in so long. "Did you kill Doug?" You thought the accusatory thought aloud. Please say no.

"Who?" Toby said in between bites. You looked his way, stomach flipping anxiously.

"Bleached blonde hair, mullet, looks like a walking highlighter." He was one of those people you recognized instantly, even from behind and from hundreds of feet away. 

"Nah. We uh-only killed that kid." Toby talked about Emile's brutal slaughter way too casually for your liking. You were somewhat relieved for Doug's safety. He still could have overdosed in an alleyway in Las Vegas but you doubted it. He was a lot smarter then he let on.

As you tore the cap off of the chocolate milk you huffed,"His name is," You paused, he wasn't alive," _Was_ Emile." You felt shitty telling one of his murderers his name but you couldn't help it. Toby talked about killing the boy like it was the weather. He was a human being. You clutched the chocolate milk with a death grip, hand shaking, " _Why did you fucking kill him?"_

Toby paused his chewing, swallowing his food. He cracked his neck, eye boring into you. 

_"Tell me, God dammit!"_ You snarled. He took part in your kidnapping he might as well answer any questions you had for him.

"Brian's idea." Everything seemed to be Brian's idea according to Toby, "Wasn't too huh-happy about being thu-thrown off a moving truck." 

You couldn't believe you called him daddy so many times with Sully. In conversation, over text: it was embarrassing as fuck. You couldn't feel your phone in your pocket, as you let your eyes idly rest towards the front of the car as your thoughts raced, you saw your phone. It was sitting in the cup holder next the drivers seat. It was useless to you, nobody but you could help yourself. You just hoped they hadn't figured out your pass code.

You felt a strong wave of hate for the man. You knew the feeling was deeply mutual. You hurt his ego so he killed a teenager. He didn't act like the petty type, he acted like the strong and silent type. The type to not hold a grudge, but he was a murderer with healing powers apparently. Anything was possible, including a huge grown ass man being so upset about losing to you, a weak girl, that he decided to murder your coworker. 

He didn't show incredibly strong reactions, some quick shouts but that was it. The strongest reaction you'd ever gotten from the man was him sprinting at you while still on fire. You only saw a single eye but he looked _pissed._ He took getting shot in back back by Dan like a champ, he had grudge after the truck, but the look in his eye was a look of pure hatred. He hadn't even been burnt that badly, not like his partner. His two partners were completely down for the count while he was completely functional. Something still nagged at you though, why had he turned back because of Toby's cries? You knew in that moment he wanted to kill you but Toby had pulled him out of his blood lust so easily.

You started to wonder what their history was before mentally smacking yourself. Again, you wanted to know nothing about them. You wanted to forget their names and faces, leave them dead and buried.

You cooled yourself down by chugging the chocolate milk. With a soft gasp for air as you finished it, you felt somewhat refreshed. A little less shit. Your skin was still raw and throbbing, your mental state was still in shambles, Emile was still dead, so was the nameless man. Feeling a little less worse was a hollow victory because you still felt awful.

"Shit!" Toby hissed, looking out his window. He lunged for you, you jumping back in response. He snatched the ropes that had sat idly on your lap.

"Hey!" You hissed, trying to pull your hands away from him. You just got your circulation back you weren't going to let him take it away so quickly. 

"This is fuh-for your own good." Toby spoke lowly, capturing both of your wrists in a single hand, "Don't tuh-tell them I untied ya-you or you're going to get fuh-fucked up." You ceased your struggling in your confusion. He quickly threw the ropes back around your irritated wrists. Tears picked at your eyes as the rough rope rubbed against your irritated skin. 

You just let him tie you up, you so badly wanted to kick and scream but you were just plain stumped. Was he not supposed to untie you? You understood not having you leave the car and having one of them watch you, but untying you was stupid even on his part. Then again, he could bust your ass before you even reached the door handle. You were biding your time, waiting for the perfect opportunity. 

Toby came off as a socially unaware, bloodthirsty, teenager. He didn't seem to have much social experience that was very positive, you remember his violence when you implied he was bullied in school. You only knew what you saw so you weren't completely sure. From what little you could gather about him, he didn't seem the type to have many friends. How could a serial murderer have many friends anyway? Your mind shot to all the serial killer hiding in plain sight, but you told those thoughts to fuck off. They were much different. 

If he truly was supposed to leave you restrained, that meant something significant. He was thirsty for something new, company that wasn't his two partners and the voices of the people they had murdered together. Company he'd probably treat like a toy, but company nonetheless. He didn't seem to understand how to go about making friends, untying you may have been a coy way of trying to get you to talk to him. You didn't believe he wanted to be friends, the way he acted made that clear enough. He wanted to kill you. He just wanted someone to talk to. You could use that you thought lowly, if he wanted someone new to talk to you could do that. And you could get away.

Your restraints were haphazardly and roughly tied. The knots weren't as neat and uniform as they'd once been. You could tell one of the others had tied you up.

Toby threw himself away from you and into his seat. Hands on his lap, one leg crossed over the other. He looked like he was trying to not be suspicious. It was borderline childish. With a roll of your eyes, you looked away from the boy who was anxiously looking out his window. You saw the two men returning to the car, their imposing forms growing closer and closer in the dark.

You shifted in your seat, trying to be at least a little more comfortable in your shitty position. It didn't help much, your torn clothes still exposed your raw flesh, making getting comfortable near impossible. 

A car door popped open followed by another. You didn't need to look to see who it was. 

"Hey buddy!" Tim seemed to be in a better mood much to your dissatisfaction. 

You whipped your head away from the window, snarling, " _Don't fucking call me that."_ You hated the way the over familiar word rolled off his tongue, you weren't buddies. 

Shutting his door as Brian buckled up, Tim turned to you. His face was the same as it was in the diner, he looked normal. It made you sick, reminding you of your foolish judgement. You wish it was still partially melted, a visual reminder of your moment of glory. 

With a shit eating grin Tim began, "No can do, _buddy."_ Brian began to pull the car out of the parking spot, you could see a small smirk on his lips in the rear view mirror. 

He turned, looking over his shoulder as he backed the car up. "Toby." He spoke icily, a shiver crawled down your spine. Did he notice your disheveled restraints? 

"Yeah?" Toby was trying to sound cool while his fingers flexed at odd angles, twiddling nervously in his lap.

_"Did you feed the dog a hamburger?"_


	18. 17 - World's Worst Bachelor Pad

Your destination was unknown, they obviously wouldn't tell you where their little killer shack was located. You didn't recognize any landmarks, and signs reading town names were completely unknown to you. You didn't know what state you were in. 

You don't know how long it took you to catch onto what Brian was doing but when you did, you weren't happy. At first, all the uneven back roads made it seem like he was taking a shortcut. Then you'd go in a big circle on be on them again. You didn't dare ask him to confirm your running theory, but you think he was trying to disorient you. Confuse you if you ever tried to tell the authorities where they were holed up.

You hated cops as much as the next reasonable guy, but you weren't going to send them to needless slaughter. If you escaped you were going to completely fuck off from all of society and civilization. It was the only option that didn't have more innocents being murdered for being associated with you. It was unappealing, but you were resilient and adaptable You'd figure it out.

The ride was long, not just because of the passage of time and the way you were tightly restrained. Whenever Tim opened his mouth, it was to insult you. Toby played along with him, them both making attempts at your thin patience. It took everything in you to not inform Tim of his pancake ass. Brian was quiet, only chiming in occasionally if his partners got a little too into wanting to kick your ass. It wasn't for your protection, it was for times sake, as he just wanted to get home. He spoke of wanting to get home quick yet took such a ridiculously round about way of going home just to make sure you were in deeper shit. You supposed stalking someone for so long would make anyone homesick. You did not feel safe with Brian in the slightest. In fact you were the most wary of him. He was a large unknown, you couldn't wrap your head around him and it was terrifying. 

You had a feeling that you were getting close to their murder hut, when the heavily forested back road you rolled down turned into less of a back road and more of a makeshift dirt path. 

Tim also pretty much announced that you were close, "We're almost there!" He leaned around his chair with a sinister smile, "You're probably gonna die here." He switched to a sugary smile, his eyes scrunching up obnoxiously, mimicking your customer service voice, "Hope you enjoy your stay!" God, you hate that guy. You're going to escape so fucking hard.

Since 'home' was approaching, you held your tongue. A nasty comment was a one way ticket to an immediate ass kicking. You still may have an ass kicking scheduled for your earlier comments.

You kept your eyes focused on the thicket of trees that the headlights lit before the mini-van. The sun had set some time ago and being in a dark car full of murderers had your anxiety off the charts. The headlights hardly lit the grassy path before it, but Brian had no problems navigating it. You thought back to his motorcycle, where had it gone? Where did someone like him get one in the first place?

You pushed the thoughts aside, preparing yourself for the worst as the path opened up into a clearing. The headlights lit up a building. You couldn't see much in the darkness, but it was constructed of some dark colored wood. You couldn't make out any details other than it's walls were constructed of wood. A cabin maybe? You weren't going to be very happy if it was a cabin, the last cabin you'd been in had ruined them for you. Then again, no matter the building you'd be staying in, you'd still be with the men. Being anywhere with them had always proved to be an awful experience. 

The car rolled to a stop, Brian flicking off the engine and pushing his door open.

"Toby, we're home." Brian spoke while removing himself from the car. Your stomach was doing flips, what if they killed you here and now? You kept telling yourself they wouldn't, they had to obey whatever **he** was. 

The past hour or so of the car ride, Toby had been asleep. At first you were ecstatic, finally one less mouthpiece to voice their desire to slaughter you. Then he started snoring, so fucking loud. He slumped over in his chair, head rolled your way. He'd removed his bandage once he was done eating, leaving his massive gash open. He drooled out of it, dribbling down his chin and onto his shoulder. Nasty.

Toby kept on snoring. Tim opened his car door to exit the vehicle, not before throwing his body around his seat to pull at Toby's pant leg and grunt out, "Hey kid, we're here."Toby woke with a yawn, stretching his arms out over his head. You could have sworn Tim smiled at him as he slid out of the car. "Take her inside, will ya? I need a smoke." You were somewhat relieved at the fact that Tim didn't chain smoke the entire car ride. "Also, grab the dog."

"Yeah, yuh-yeah, you old ah-ass man." Toby huffed, unbuckling himself. Tim didn't shoot back an insult which honestly surprised you. He rose to his feet as much as the cars roof would allow. "You." He turned to you, despite the sleep his eye bags were still deep and dark, his voice groggy and deep from his disturbed sleep. 

"Me?" You regretted the somewhat snarky word as he looked unamused at you. Guess he's grumpy when he wakes up. 

He made his way over to you, unbuckling you, "Duh-don't run unless-less you want me to cut your fuh-fingers off." Your torso cried in relief at its new found freedom. You didn't plan on making a run for it yet. When you made your grand escape you'd do it when you had the best shot. You didn't have much time, they made it seem like being considered was something that happened over a short period of time. 

"Got it." You sucked your lips into your mouth, Toby moving away from you and grabbing Goobers leash that lay in the isle between your chairs. 

Exiting the isle with colorful leash in hand, Toby swung the door closest to his seat open. You didn't need him dragging you out of the car, so you peeled your sore ass from the leather seat. Goober padded down the car's isle following his leash mindlessly. As he passed by you, he stopped a moment to sniff your dirty pant leg. Toby lightly tugged on his leash to grab his fickle attention. Goober whined but complied, bounding out of the car, hopping into the grass below. 

You followed the pup, feeling a bit awkward walking with your hands tied and your ass sore from sitting for so long. You warily stepped into the clearing, looking around. It was pitch black, you could only see what the inner car lights would allow. Which was Toby, Goober and the grass below your scuffed shoes. 

You caught sight of Tim's face as he lit a cigarette a few feet away. He glanced your way as he lit its butt, "What?"

You were tempted to say 'smoking kills' but then again, you set his face on fire. Yet here he is, completely unharmed, you're not really sure anything can kill him. You also didn't want him thinking you gave a single shit about his well being. You just shrugged, looking away from the man. 

A large hand clasped onto your shoulder with a firm grip. You gasped, body shuddering in surprise.

"It's just me." Brian spoke from behind, something shifting and rustling behind you. Just him? He killed people. You didn't like the amusement in his tone, the way he seemed to revel in your fear and surprise. He seemed smart enough, probably figured out your aversion to touch and was using it against you. Either as a silent threat or as mental torment. Either way, he's an asshole. 

He gave no warning as he began pushing you forward, you stumbled a moment, arms dumbly shooting out in front of you. Quickly recovering on your own, he made no moves to help you steady yourself like he had back when you thought he was a normal person. So his general human decency was fake too? Amazing. 

You blindly let yourself be pushed along. ' _Click_ ', the sound of what you assumed the doors lock entered your ears followed by a low groan of wood. You were quickly pushed into the building, the air stiff and stagnant. With a _'flick'_ the lights were turned on.

You eyes burned a moment, your head somewhat recoiling from the newfound light. You blinked away the sensation of your eyes adjusting and took in your surroundings. You were in a pitiful excuse for a kitchen. There was no little entrance area by the door, it just led into the kitchen. The kitchen itself had unpolished wooden floors and it's walls were painted a dull yellow. A few feet to your right sat a kitchen counter attached to the wall, three stools sat lined up on its side. The gas stove was spotty with rust and some dried and crusty stains. Drawers and cabinets lined the counter beside the oven, next to the a white refrigerator. It had magnets of singular letters in different colors.

One 'W' held up a crusty piece of paper with a scribbled drawing on it. It was very conceptual, hard to understand its shapes and forms but after a moment of dumbly staring, you figured out all the scribbled lines and shapes were meant to be three people. It was like the outline of three dark silhouettes made of triangles and swirls. The forms has different builds, one was unmistakably like Brian's, taller than the other two and broad. One had the the same swoop of hair Tim had. The smallest had to be Toby, his silhouettes head having hair that stuck out every which way. You didn't take any of them for the artistic type. 

Toby was in the middle of the kitchen, Goober's leash still in hand.

"Toby," Brian spoke, a hand still death gripping your shoulder, the boy turned to you both standing in the doorway His eyes glazed over and tired looking. The brunette shifted to look at the man behind you, Goober turning around to see his two favorite people together. As Goober began excitedly wagging his tail, Brian continued, "Go to bed." 

You were floored by the command, as Toby clicked his tongue with annoyance, "Duh-don't baby me, Brian."

You kept your lips sealed and let the scene play out, Brian's voice dropping a little bit "You had a rough night." Was he referring to his breakdown the night before? "Give me the dog and go to bed." His voice was even and not commanding. It was more of a firm suggestion. 

Toby's shoulders slacked down as he let out a sigh. He crossed the kitchen and held out the leash. Brian released your shoulder to your instant relief, "You," His breath shifted a few strands of your hair, as he took the leash softly from Toby, "Sit on the couch and await further instruction." Just like the note that was on Michael's chest that night. It sent a horrible wave of memories through your skull. "Don't try anything." His voice was commanding with you, an edge of 'don't fuck with me' lacing it.

You bit the inside of your lip, trying to use the slight pain to calm yourself. You were trying to keep a level head in a literal murder shack. You simply nodded.

Toby lazily eyed you, he looked like he needed the sleep that Brian recommended. You opted to follow Toby to where ever said couch was. As you waddled forward, Toby let go of the leash. You still weren't very happy about the idea Brian had somehow gotten in his head that he was Goober's new owner. Goober made a move to follow you over taking a walk with Brian, you smiled as you walked passed the pup, cooing softly, "Hi Gooby!" 

"Move." Brian commanded. You held in a smile that you knew Goober loved you more, you were his mama after all; your single greeting to the puppy made his tail whip around like the blade of a helicopter. 

Brian tugged lightly on Goober's leash to catch his attention. The dog reluctantly turned his attention from you to the man in the open doorway, tail wagging at the idea of a walk, but not as hard as when you spoke to him. You swore you heard a little hum of triumph from Brian. He set something heavy onto the floor with a soft ' _thunk'_ before the door creaked shut.

"Cuh-come on." Toby spun around on his heel as Brian led Goober outside through the door behind you. 

You followed far behind the slouching boy, him rolling his shoulders back, them popping obnoxiously loud. You had to admit you were getting used to his ticks. He led the way around the counter with stools, you glanced at the kitchen sink to find it absolutely piled up with dishes, it smelled awful and looked worse. They knew they were going to be gone awhile and didn't clean before they left. Why are men like this?

You passed through a doorless doorway, bits of wood hung off loosely attached hinges. They tore the fucking door down. You heard another soft ' _flick_ ', light flooding the new room and tearing your eyes from the destroyed door frame.

You entered what you supposed was a living room. The walls were painted the same dull yellow as the kitchen, the floors were a coarse looking gray carpet. Against the wall rested a plush black couch. Crumbs sitting on its cushions. Next to it, in the corner sat an arm chair, a simple tall lamp beside it. Before the couch sat a knee height black coffee table, just like the one back at the cabin. You couldn't get the image of Dan's body unconsciously laying on its broken form. 

"I'm guh-going to bed. Stuh-stay here or I'll bu-break your fucking legs." Toby shot you an accusatory glare as he whipped around to the left, where there was a wide hallway. Two doors to its right side, one on its left, one at the end of the hallway. You supposed those were their rooms and the bathroom. Unless they just shit outside or something, you wouldn't put it passed them. Maybe instead of a bathroom they had a torture room or a room lined with sick memorabilia they took from the crime scenes they caused. 

You watched the teenager shuffle down the hall, pushing open the first door on the right. He shot you one last glare with an, "Tha-that's your only wah-warning." He growled before pushing himself into what you assumed was his room. He wasn't exactly a peach or a nice person to be around, but you could tell he wasn't in a great mood.

You were alone. You were in the filthy bachelor pad of three murderers. Your wrists tied together, your ass aching from the long car ride. You decided to do something against Brian's word. You were going to stand. Not feeling quite comfortable to relax on a murderers crumb speckled couch. It was also a mild action of disobedience, and you were being too obedient for your liking. Probably not enough for an ass whopping but something enough to let them know that you were still planning on being a pain in the ass. 

You wanted your body intact for escape, can't run away without legs after all. Yet, you didn't want to completely bend to their will. You were a strong independent final girl, who hated stinky slasher men.

The door croaked as it opened from the kitchen. Heavy footsteps rang out, a shadow playing on the wall that you could see from your spot in the middle of the living room. The footsteps set you off internally, heart thundering in your rib cage. Every time you heard their heavy footfalls they'd either chase or terrorize you. You curled your toes in your shoes, trying to get a grip. You didn't want them to see even more of the fear they struck into you.

From the empty doorway, Tim entered, his tan jacket open revealing his partially singed flannel beneath. He held his distorted mask in one hand, it's leather straps wrapped around his fingers, mask swaying as he moved. In the other he loosely held his crowbar.

When his eyes fell on you, idly standing in the room alone and partially tied up, he grinned. He cocked his head to the side grin melting into a smirk. He sauntered your way, slow and purposefully, his crowbar dragging through the thick carpet. You swallowed a lump in your throat and stood your ground. You weren't going to cower beneath him. Your brain scream to run, try to get through the doorway he just came though. That wouldn't work and you knew it. 

Tim proved to not understand or purposefully ignore social boundaries once more as he stood toe to toe with you. Literally, he touched the tips of his boots to your ratty sneakers, slightly stepping on your toes. You looked up at him with the best look of disinterest that you could muster. 

"You wanna repeat that shit you said to me in car earlier?" Tim was smiling but his eyes burned into yours, daring you to test him.

You kept your lips sealed, you wouldn't completely back down but you were doing your best to learn when to throw in the towel, especially when you were restrained in their house. 

"Hey." His breath was hot on your face, smelling like a chimney. You didn't respond verbally, you just slowly blinked at him. A quiet response of, 'what bitch'. You didn't see him move the crowbar but its cold bent end was suddenly tapped against your temple. Another grim reminder of that night in the cabin. You didn't move, you didn't want to let him win your little encounter, your lips screwed up into a frown. The crowbar was pulled from your temple only for it to the tapped against it once more, slightly harder. It didn't hurt but there was a threat looming just beneath his touch. "Answer me." 

"No, I don't." You growled through grit teeth, bound hands curling into fists the best they could. It was another act of disobedience but one that you knew would satisfy him enough to possibly fuck off. You hated the idea of him being satisfied by your faulty submission but it was what had to be done. You very much liked having unbroken arms and all of your teeth.

He lightly pressed the cold steel into your dirty skin, "Do you have anything to say to me?" He was not asking you to say 'I'm sorry', if he truly was he wouldn't get one. When you dumbly stared at him, mouth partially hanging open, he frowned. Not good. An unhappy Tim was a fucked up you.

"What could I possibly have to say to you?" You blurted out before he could start to get rough with you, it came out sounding much harsher than you meant. You'd do your best to please him to keep him at bay but you were not going to say I'm sorry to him. Not in a million years.

Tim smiled once more, a disgusting expression you hated to see on the man but you took it. You'll show him soon enough. "Didn't your parents ever teach you any manners?" He tutted, keeping the pressure on your temple. "I suppose they probably didn't considering your past actions." Manners wouldn't save you against the men, of course you wouldn't be nice to them. It was a dig to get under your skin. You did your best to let it go. If you got on angry on behalf of your parents then he might use that as ammunition in the future. 

"Nope." You popped the 'p' trying your best not to quiver under his predatory gaze. 

The door in the kitchen swung open with a loud groan. The familiar clicking of dog claws on tile filled your ears along with the dreadful sound of boots. Tim looked over his shoulder, you couldn't see the doorway behind him as he was blocking it from your view with his body. There was a quick scraping sound from the unseen room before the boots grew louder. Tim shot you one last horrible smile, removing the cold metal from your skin. You held in a sigh of relief. Tim stepped away from you, padding over to the armchair before throwing himself into it. 

Goober bolted into the room, Brian in tow, holding something bulky over his shoulder. Goober barreled towards you, tail wagging. He jumped up as you braced for impact. Goober threw himself up on his hind legs, pushing his front paws onto your torso. When he stood on his back legs, he was nearly your height. He loudly sniffed at your crusty face. After a few second of sniffing, he opened his mouth and licked your face from your jaw to your upper cheek. You cracked a genuine smile at the animal, a relieved giggle leaving your lips. It felt good to be loved. It felt good to be receiving the puppy love right in front of Brian, who seemed to have gotten the idea in his head that Goober was his. 

As Goober continued to lick at your face, Brian entered the room. He let the thing he was holding on his shoulder slide off of him with a ' _thunk'._ Goober removed himself from you, once again on all fours. You turned your attention from Goober to the man standing across the room. Brian hadn't changed the entire time. During the car ride he'd striped himself of his black jacket that he'd worn in the diner, the night everything went to shit. He'd brushed off most of the flour that spilled on him but the dull yellow still had large spots stained white. His front still showed the outline of Emile's body, the stains now long dried and dark brown. You had to look away.

At his feet was a (f/c) large suitcase; your suitcase. You remember packing it while crying in your room, a few nights before you finally moved out of Tuscaloosa. You remember dragging it up those steep stairs of your apartment for the first time as the elevator was out at the time. You may have fallen, just a little. 

Now it was here with you in the murder house. You'd stuffed it deep into the back of your closet, mostly forgetting about it for the past three years.

His hazel eyes flicked from Goober to you, not looking very pleased at the loving exchange. You could see a twinge of a frown play on his lips, either from the dogs clear favoritism or you not sitting like he asked. He didn't acknowledge your defiance, "Your clothes."

You couldn't stop yourself, you were completely baffled, "You went through my shit!?" You honestly couldn't believe they rooted through your room, touching your personal possessions. 

"Well it's not like we're gonna let you wear our clothes." Tim snidely remarked, watching your dumbfounded expression with a smug smile.

You felt violated knowing they'd touched your things, without your permission, not like you'd give it. "I'd literally rather eat ass than wear anything of yours." You snapped at the man. The thought of having to wear their clothing was disgusting to you. 

"You wanna say that shit again?" Tim began to push himself up from the armchair. 

His ego was fragile, more fragile then you were used to. Despite being opposed to you wearing his clothes, when you rejected the idea that he proposed, he got angry. It was honestly breathtaking how easy he was to rile up. 

"Tim." Brian's deadpan reminded you of his presence. He was big guy but he could fade into the background so easily that it was scary.

Tim looked to his partner with a huff, settling himself back into the chair. You were earnestly surprised, Tim seemed bullheaded and unable to listen to directions. Yet all Brian had to do was say his name, and he settled down. Well, not exactly. Tim still had a look on his face that read 'I want to beat your ass' as he glared your way. 

"You." It was now your turn to blindly follow Brian's commands. "Grab something to wear." As you stiffly walked your way over to the suitcase that sat near the man's feet, you felt his eyes on you. "You need a shower." His voice was calm but you could tell it was a jab at your more than just ragged appearance. You know you looked awful but you didn't need a reminder, especially from him. Covered in blood and flour. 

You held your tongue against Brian. He was unknown and you weren't about to test his limits. You looked away from him as you knelt before the suit case. Your wrists were still tied together, hands facing one another. They could still move thanks to Toby's subpar job of tying you up, and you could actually feel your fingers. 

It was awkward to open the suitcase with the bindings but you did it anyway. There was no way you were about to ask for help from these assholes. They didn't say anything as you pushed the suitcases top open. Inside lay bundled up heaps of fabric, haphazardly thrown together. Atop the horrible packing job of clothing was some random toiletries from your bathroom drawer. They really just went through your shit and grabbed whatever they could find. There were bottles of body wash, shampoo, and conditioner. You could really tell they didn't pay too much attention to what they grabbed, as there were a few old bottles of nail polish in there too. 

You grabbed the first outfit your hands could find. Feeling disgust as you grabbed your underwear. It wasn't a good feeling to have your tormentors know that you had a pair of underwear that read ' _hewwo_ _'_ on the ass. You couldn't just explain that they were a gag gift from Sully for your ninetieth birthday. You just had to deal with the fact that one or more of them knew about them and you hoped to God they didn't read the text or care.

Snatching a few toiletry bottles, you honestly didn't trust the men to have soap. You threw the clothes up into your elbows, bending your arms shut to hold them. You stood to your feet, not liking the moment of unspoken tension. You turned towards the hallway, assuming that's where their bathroom was. 

A hand made its home on the back of your neck. You tensed, Brian's calloused hand pressed against your skin, a shiver making it's way down your spine. His hand just rested there, not even squeezing but you knew if you did anything slightly funny he'd quickly change that. You knew the feeling of his hands pressed against your throat while you couldn't breathe, and you didn't want to experience that again.

"This way." Brian began to guide you along, you wobbled beside him trying to keep up. 

Your lips pulled into an involuntary line, breaths quick and short. It was very outwardly obvious how terrified of the man you were. It wasn't like you were mortified of the other men, it was just Brian's hand on the back of your throat. The last time it was there he pinned you up against a wall by your neck, just a bit terrifying and traumatizing. You could feel his fingers pressing ever so slightly into the bruises left from the last time. 

As you both made your way down the hallway, you could hear soft snoring from behind the door Toby disappeared into. Guess he was really tired. Pausing Brian pushed the door next to Toby's open and flicked on the light. He ushered you into the bathroom, the second you passed the threshold he released your neck. Your tense muscles relaxed only a bit in relief, a shuddering breath leaving your lungs. You set your things beside the bathroom sink, it was clean for the most part. If you could excuse the bits of shaved hair in the sink. 

You looked dumbly to your restrained arms and then to Brian. You couldn't exactly untie yourself. Brian stood in the doorway, looking bored at you. He had more stubble on his face than the last time you'd seen him, there were dark bags under his eyes, he looked worn out. You hoped he was too worn out to beat your ass or torment you. 

"Come here." Brian beckoned, shifting in the doorway in order to lean on the door frame. Your stomach felt like it was being squeezed at the command, his hazel eyes boring into you, seeming to will you forward with just those simple yet terrifying words. You obeyed, hoping he wouldn't wring your neck. Shuffling forward you gingerly pushed your tied up wrists towards him.

His hands grabbed the ropes, not starting to untie them right away. Your heart skipped a beat. Did he notice the change in how the knots were tied? His hands quickly began unraveling the disheveled ropes. As soon as he started, he was finished. He bunched the rope up in a single fist, shoving it in to his hoodie pocket. Your wrists sang in relief but they also stung. They were raw, a layer of skin harshly rubbed away. You looked down at them, rubbing the bruised skin, your fingers passing over the indentations from the rope.

You were finally free of your restraints, about to have a probably okay shower, you'd be in the clear for only a few minutes. 

A hand was wrapped around your throat. His fingers roughly closing around the previous bruises, your eyes flying open wide. He was hardly squeezing your throat, if at all but you felt short of breath. You didn't know what to do, you could only imagine how your thundering pulse felt under his fingers. 

Looking down at you he lowly began, " _I know Toby untied you_." You couldn't help but let your mouth hand slightly open in shock, eyes wide. The knots were quite different, you were surprised Tim hadn't said anything about them. You just stared down at the arm that was attached to the hand wrapped around your throat, too afraid to say anything or acknowledge him. "Look at me." His fingers further dug into your flesh, your bruised skin crying out and causing you to gasp.

You didn't dare move your head, only your wide (e/c) eyes. He had an easy smile, either at your distress, his power over you, or both. He tilted his head, his short light hair shifting forward as he began to speak, low and quiet and intimate, his breath ghosting onto your cheek.

"Don't even think about manipulating Toby, (Y/n) (L/n)." It was horrifying, the edge to his voice, the false familiarity and intimacy made your skin crawl. The fact that he pulled out your full name when you'd never even told him your last name was chilling. You didn't know if he could read your mind or what but he fucking _knew_ about your plan before you even set it in motion. "I know _a lot_ more about you than you think." He continued, still smiling. His lack of elaboration made your mind race, what did he know?

" _I was there that night."_ Your heart stopped, your jaw dropped, you were shaking; it took everything in you not to whimper in fear. You knew what he meant right away; but you hadn't seen him at all. He had to be bullshitting you but something about the way he said the words with such conviction made you doubt it.

"You can't hide _anything_ from me." His smile was sweet but his gaze felt like being an ant under a magnifying glass on a sunny day, the intensity of the sun bearing down on you with no where to escape. You were trying your best not to cry, you surprisingly hadn't but you were damn close to. After a few moments of a silent staring contest, he gave your neck a soft and quick squeeze. Making you gasp and attempt to jump from his grip. You didn't go anywhere, he held you too firmly in place with a single hand. He straightened his head, eyes now level with you and just a breath away as he whispered, "Understood?" 

Your mouth was bone dry, breath hitched in your throat. You were stuck on the possible truth of him being there that night. You curtly nodded as best you could with his massive hand around your throat.

"Good." He released your throat, you still didn't dare to take in a breath. He grabbed the door handle, "I'll be right outside." Brian's words weren't that of a caring host, they were a warning not to try anything. He gave you toothy grin, the tooth gap you once associated with a sweet man was now a feature of the man you feared the most.

The door shut, leaving you standing staring at the wood in disbelief, your whole body trembling. How could he have known? About your plans for Toby. About that night. How much did he see? There was a lock on the door handle, you were momentarily tempted to twist it. He could bust the door down without a second thought, it wouldn't do much.

Still, your shaking fingers made their way towards the handle, "Don't even think about locking the door." You ceased all movement, it was either a lucky guess or he did know you that well. You didn't respond, too afraid from the encounter that just happened between you two. He had stunned you into an unusual silence. 

Looking to put it behind you, you turned from the door. The bathroom had a little counter with a sink indented in it, two cupboards below it. Next to the sink was a toilet, it's lid shut. Across from the sink and toilet sat the shower, a grey curtain pulled over it. You shifted the curtain to the side, looking for the handle. It sat on the white shower wall, grey and surprisingly not incredibly dirty. They all seemed the type to somehow have a dirty shower handle despite it being located in a fucking shower. They were full of surprises, horrible ones.

You grabbed the shower handle, twisting it with a grunt of effort. Nothing happened. You twisted it the other way. Again, nothing.

"You need to pull on it first." Brian informed from behind the door. He really was listening in on you. You didn't feel as safe and relaxed being alone as you thought you'd be.

"Okay." You quietly responded. Not wanting to say thanks to him, but fearing that if you didn't acknowledge his help he'd pull a Tim and get really mad over something so little.

You did as he said, pulling the handle before turning it. A jet of water sprayed from the shower head. The stream hitting the floor of the shower with a roar. You made haste peeling off your torn and filthy clothing. You got a whiff of your turtleneck as you took it off, it smelled like hot garbage. You were about to remove your pants before you remembered the little clown in your pocket. You removed it from your pocket, looking at it with wide eyes. What if Brian found out about it?

You couldn't allow it. With the loud sprinkle of the water in the shower masking the soft crinkling, you began to slowly and carefully unwrap the disc of a clown face. You cringed and looked towards the door anytime the wrapper even made the softest noise. 

Finally free of its wrapping, you held the hard plastic in a single hand. You made your way to your change of clothes, shoving it into you sweatpants pocket. You had nowhere else to put it. You carefully pushed its plastic wrapper, which donned the McDonald's logo deep into a pocket of your ruined jeans. You were sure they'd throw them out without second thought or you'd just never wear them again. If they checked either pants pocket they'd be suspicious and would probably laugh at you before questioning you. It wasn't like a kidnapped twenty something had a use for hard plastic other then to fashion it into a shiv.

You just had to hope that Brian didn't check your happy meal for a missing toy. It was highly unlikely in your books, he was vigilant but not that vigilant. 

You grabbed your three bottles of body wash, shampoo, and conditioner, respectively. Luck hadn't been on your side the past few days but it struck in the form of your body wash. It was a birthday gift from a family member, you couldn't remember who, it was from one of those fancy 'treat yourself' like stores. You only used the body wash for special occasions, like nights out or if you'd had a particularly rough day at work. You used it so sparingly because it was the nicest soap you'd ever had and nice soap didn't come cheap. It also smelled like cocoa butter. The scent was rich and stayed on your skin for longer then other body washes. You were in one fuck of an unsatisfactory situation but at least you'd smell nice and have smooth skin. At least where your skin wasn't raw and wounded.

You stepped into the warm stream of water. It wasn't until now that you questioned that the murder bachelor pad deep in the woods had electricity and running water. You don't know how they'd done it but it was a comfort to not have to use candles as lights and bath in a nearby body of water. Your very temporary stay here was going to be God awful but at least there were basic comforts. 

You noticed something, something dreadfully awful. Sitting on the shelf of the shower was a big bottle, it was the only bottle of soap in the entire shower besides the ones you'd just brought in. It was a three in one. Shampoo, conditioner, and body wash, all in one. Which was a terrible idea that often didn't pan out well for those using it. You can't just have your cake and eat it too. They need to be separate! You understood being in a rough spot and using them but you didn't doubt they were above stealing. It just further reminded you that you were being held captive by men.

What made it even worse was the fact that the bottle was labeled ' _MEN'S Dark Temptation',_ the name had you cringing. Men's skin wasn't any different from a women's, but men still only bought shit labeled for men only. As well as stupid names that really shout, _I'm a manly-man! Please don't say my dick is small!_

Holding in a laugh, you set two of your bottles down and got to work. There was no loofah or hand towel to wash yourself with, not that you'd use something that touched their skin anyways. 

When you first stepped under the shower's jet of warm water, your raw skin stung, making you hiss but the ache quickly died down into a dull pulsation. Your body welcomed the warm water, relaxing your tense muscles. As much as they could relax with Brian outside the door. Your skin that'd been torn by throwing yourself from Emile's car had started to scab over. Cleaning the raw flesh didn't hurt as bad as you expected it to. Your wrists were okay for the most part, just rubbed slightly raw, the indentations fading away slowly.

As you washed yourself, you let your mind wander to Sully. He must have known about Emile's murder by now. Those two were friends, not the closest, but friends nonetheless. You all had went to Emile's first pride together last summer. Emile just came out to his parents and all went well. Though you and Emile weren't close, he was a good kid. Despite being a smart ass. He didn't deserve what he got. 

You wondered about Sully's mom. You pieced together that it was Tim who'd harmed that angel of a woman. Coming in late, soaking wet from the rain, shortly after Sully made his leave for the hospital. When someone leaves your life it can be dramatic, full of tears and sorrowful goodbyes. Other times it could be messy, hurtful, angry. In you and Sully's case it was something neither of you saw coming. You didn't get to say a proper goodbye. 

You doubted they'd let you call him on your cellphone. They'd probably removed the sim card already, making calls impossible. You wondered if you'd been reported as missing. You wondered if Sully thought you were dead, if he knew about the cop you had murdered.

You cried quietly in the shower, you wouldn't admit it but you did. It took a few minutes of letting yourself get blasted in the face with the water to get yourself together. You'd let yourself cry and mourn when you needed to, away from the men's prying eyes. It didn't make you weak to cry, it made you in tune with yourself. You hadn't lost yourself just yet. You reminded yourself of who you were. Of everything you'd done. 

Turning off the water, you stepped out of the shower. There was no towel to dry yourself off with and you were not about to ask Brian for help. You were too prideful for that and also mortified of him. As much as it sucked, you didn't dry yourself off as you threw on your outfit. You'd manage.

Your outfit consisted of thick gray sweatpants and a baggy (f/c) sweater that read in bold letters,' _Southern Indiana State University'._ You remember buying it for a ridiculous price and sucking it up because it was so damn comfy looking. You slipped your sneakers back on, glad that you grabbed socks so the inside of the musty shoes didn't touch your skin.

You left your bottles in the bathroom, no point in taking them out if you're just going to use them again later. You bunched up your filthy clothes, tucking them under one arm. You pushed a few wet strands of (h/c) hair from your face as you made your way to the door. The little clown deep in your sweatpants pocket felt as heavy as a brick, but it was so thin and lightweight that you couldn't even see its outline in your pocket. 

The door opened as you went to knock on it to wordlessly inform Brian you were finished. The fact that he heard your approach wasn't too surprising but it just cemented in the fact that he was observant as hell. 

He swung out of the doorway to make way for you. He placed a hand on your shoulder to guide you once more. You hated that he felt the need to touch you so much. His touch may not have been too rough but it was a quiet threat. He pushed you back the way you came into the living room. He paused before your suitcase. You took the cue to throw your dirty clothes on top of everything else. Hopefully they wouldn't muck up your other possessions too badly.

He guided you around the coffee table and to the couch, his hand still heavy on your shoulder.

"Sit." He deadpanned, maybe he was a little miffed over your earlier act of mild disobedience. You held your tongue, wanting to ask him if he thought you were a dog. He'd probably say yes and you did not want to get into an argument with him right now. You quickly sat on the couch, making yourself as small as possible. "Don't move." His simple commands were really getting on your nerves. You weren't a dog.

He made his exit into the hallway. Tim must have left the living room to hit the sack while you were in the shower. You were glad for the quick moment of respite, free of prying eyes and ears. You wondered where Goober was, if he was sleeping on the edge of Brian's bed like he did with you, you were going to be real tempted to shove your foot up Brian's ass. You wouldn't but you'd want to.

He quickly reentered the room, a pillow without a cover and a thin blanket tucked under one arm. Zip-ties in the other. You tensed but made no move to run. You knew that the first few days of your stay they'd be hyper-vigilant about securing you. You were glad it at least wasn't handcuffs, shackles, or more rope. He tossed the pillow on the end of the couch, by the armrest. When he was closer, he haphazardly threw the blanket onto the couch.

Turning his attention to you, "Hands behind your back." The statement reminded you of a police officer, reminded you that you killed one. You complied, tucking your hands behind your back. He leaned over you, towering over your form. A hand grabbed your shoulder, pushing you to bend forward for easier access to your hands. You didn't appreciate the manhandling but kept you mouth shut. 

_Fwwwiip! Click!_

The zip tie was thrown around both of your wrists and secured snug. He tugged on the zip ties, checking them, much to your distaste. Pulling away but still too close for comfort, he knelt. He grabbed both of your ankles, pulling them together. You jumped under his touch. He didn't look up at you but you thought you saw the ghost of a smile on his lips. Dick head. 

_Fwwwiip! Click!_

He quickly secured the zip ties around your ankles. If you wanted to escape you'd have to hop or roll away. You were not about to degrade yourself that much, but it was tempting. 

"Bed." He didn't use the same soft suggestion as he had with Toby. With you it was a command. You really hated this guy and having to do everything he said. If you weren't so restrained, weak, slow, an exhausted you'd totally kick his ass.

Pulling your lips into a line, you complied. He backed away as you scooted down the couch to get under the blanket. Getting under a blanket without the use of your hands was quite difficult. As you struggled, Brian leaned on the wall opposite of you. You didn't look at him, too intimidated and too concentrated on the task at hand.

You felt like an Olympic champion when you finally got under the blanket. Resting your head on the thin pillow, you forced yourself to look at the man across from you. His companions were most definitely asleep and he made no moves to go to bed.

"You just gonna sit there?" You asked, cocking a brow trying to sound as casually not terrified as possible.

"Yes." Your skin prickled with fear, not liking the idea of being watched in your sleep. 

"All night?" Please say no.

"I'vie watched you sleep multiple times," Brian informed you with a toothy smile, "I didn't hurt you any of those times. You'll be fine."

Your stomach lurched and you could feel some color drained from your face. You swallowed a lump in your throat, you were in a deeper hole then you'd thought. "You look tired. Don't you want to uh," You nervously laughed under his gaze, "Go to bed? I promise I won't roll away." You fiddled with your fingers nervously behind your back. Still reeling at the new information.

"Not at all," He said with dark bags under his eyes, "I'll be up watching you all night." He wasn't even trying to hide his creepiness anymore. You just stared at the man, mouth agape, "I _probably_ won't hurt you." You reminded yourself that he was just trying to get under your skin. Just trying to scare you. Yet the look in his eyes told you that he wanted to stab you thirty-seven times in the chest.

"Cool." You clicked your tongue, sweating. "Have fun." You instantly regretted the somewhat snarky comment but he made no moves to attack you. You flipped your body around, using the childish logic ' _if I can't see it, it can't see me'_. You knew his eyes were boring into the back of your head but not being to see him staring at you was a comfort. Even though you hated the idea of turning your back to him. 

_"Sweet dreams."_


	19. 18 - Close Proximity

_The sun was beginning to dip below the horizon, not yet completely dunking the world in darkness. In fact, it was golden hour. Everything was bathed in a lush yellow-orange light that could make anyone look about ten times hotter. Except Daniel Baker._

_You were both alone together, a horrible idea, but you weren't going to back down from his presence completely. He was somewhat tolerable when he wasn't talking or beating your face to a pulp. He usually didn't come to the downstairs living room to wait for Jen and his parents with you, if at all. Today he did._

_You had seated yourself comfortably in the La-Z-Boy recliner, Mr.Baker's most prized possession. When he first invited you to sit in the chair, it felt like an honor; it meant he really liked you and it felt amazing it sit on. You kept yourself occupied on your smartphone, scrolling mindlessly through social media. Dan sat opposite of you but instead of sitting he was standing on his knees on the couch. His back was turned to you and holding the blinds open, his eyes lined with bags fixated out the small gap in the blinds._

_If you weren't so familiar with the Baker's household and Dan as a person, you'd think he was waiting anxiously for a package. However, you knew the window he was looking out of didn't lead to the front of the house. He wouldn't be able to see anyone pulling into the driveway or any postal vehicles. He was looking out the window that showed the backyard._

_The Baker's got quite lucky with their backyard in all honesty. There was no other houses blocking the view of the woods. There were old hiking trails that would reveal themselves after pushing past the initial line of shrubbery that was natures line between civilization and the woods. You and Jen would walk them, mostly in the the fall when the leaves were changing from green to fiery oranges and vibrant yellows. On occasion, some neighborhood kids would trespass on the Baker's backyard to get to the trails. Not that the Baker's ever minded. Sally would always call her husband over when she spotted kids walking into the woods with a smile. They'd idly chitchat about how it's so nice that the youth of today saw the value of nature and weren't stuck in their phones all the time._

_Dan didn't give a shit about the woods or strangers having a nice hike. That's why when you looked up from your phone for the third time in the past ten minutes and he was still intently staring out the window, you got up. The La-Z-Boy's fabric cover groaned as you stood up. Dan whipped around, looking the most alarmed you'd ever seen him be._

_It was only a split second that the terror was spread across his features before they hardened into a look of disdain._

_"(L/n) don't fucking scare me like that." He spat. As you approached the sunlight reflected a shining white off his skin, he was sweating._

_"I didn't do anything." You huffed, you weren't in the mood for a fight. You changed the subject, "What'cha lookin' at?" Before he could respond, you'd already climbed onto the couch. You made an effort not to get too close to him. There was an unspoken agreement between you both that you wouldn't touch one another unless Dan was trying to wring your neck over something stupid._

_Dan's lips were pressed into a line that flickered into a frown. Huffing, he turned his face from you and shoved his face into the blinds. Eyes squinting as they looked between the plastic blinds he separated with two fingers. You supposed that was an invitation to have a look. Leaning forward, careful of where you placed your limbs, you opened your own set of blinds between your fingers._

_"Do you see that guy?" Dan hissed out, an unnatural edge of something you didn't recognize in his tone, was it fear?_

_In the Bakers backyard stood a tall figure. Supposedly a he, he had his back turned to you both. He stood behind the forests line, somewhat obscured by the green bushes but still very visible, due to his dull yellow hoodie standing out amongst all the deep greens._

_"Uh," People standing in their backyard was a semi-regular occurrence,"Yeah. And? Just some guy waiting for his friend to catch up or something." You didn't get why he was staring at the dude. Maybe he finally picked on the wrong person's little sibling. It was more likely that the man was waiting for someone over you getting to see Dan get his shit rocked in the upcoming days._

_Dan sucked his lips into his mouth a moment, not taking his eyes off the figure as he began, "Go home."_

_"What the fuck?" You let the blinds close as you pulled your hand from them, turning to Dan, "No way." You'd gotten into a heated argument with your parents that morning and were looking to spend the night at the Baker's to let your parents have some extra time to cool off._

_"I'm serious (L/n)," He didn't meet your gaze, "Go home right now." His tone held an underlying threat. You watched a bead of sweat roll down his forehead. You didn't want to get beat up but you also didn't want to be lectured on respect for two hours._

_"Yeah, no." You retorted with a roll of the eyes._

_"Please." His tone still held a note of disdain. You recoiled at the word, Dan was not someone for basic manners._

_"Are you like," Who was this teenager before you and what had he done with Dan, "Okay?" You cringed while asking him. You didn't really give much of a shit about his well being but you had to admit, you were curious._

_Dan kept his mouth shut._

_"Hello?" You huffed in slight disbelief. He can't just drop a verbal bomb like that and not explain himself. He did anyway._

_The front door was thrown open, Dan jumped up from his spot and onto his feet. Standing at attention, hands curled into fists at his sides._

_"I heard a certain someone is staying over tonight!" Mr.Baker called out from the entrance,"Hope you're ready to have a ballin' night!" He threw out the slang with a note of enthusiasm._

_"Daaaaaaaaaaad!" Jen whined out, you could tell she was cringing, which brought a smile to your lips, "What did I say about using slang?"_

_Dan relaxed his shoulders with a huff. He stomped away from you and towards the stairs. What was the point in waiting for his family to come home in the living room if he's just going to leave when they come home?_

_"Don't wig your father Jennifer." Sally chuckled. Three pairs of footsteps made their way towards the living room._

_As Dan began to ascend the stairs he looked over his shoulder at you. He gave you an unreadable look before bolting up the stairs, jumping up them two steps at a time._

_"That's not how you use wig! Oh my God!" You could tell you and Jen were in for a long night full of cringing at her parents use of what they called 'young people words'._

**\----**

"Get up." A voice grunted. It was reminiscent of the one in your dream, of Dan's. A hand placed itself of your shoulder, shaking you back and forth in a quick and aggressive motion. Dan was always such a rough asshole.

Groaning as sleep still lingered on your brain, you mumbled, "Go away Dan."

Snuggling your head into the pillow as the hand removed itself from your shoulder. With the nuisance gone, you began drifting back to sleep.

_Fwooosh!_

The pillow beneath your head was ripped out from under you. Your head softly falling onto the couch as your eyes snapped open. You were met with the cushions of the black couch you lay on. You grunted in annoyance, quickly remembering that you were in the bachelor pad from hell. You rolled from your side to your back, squinting at the figure above you.

 _"What?"_ You hissed, not feeling too peachy over being awoken so rudely. 

"I just wanna have a morning chat with my good buddy." Tim smiled down at you. He was standing in front of the couch, bent in half in order to hover over you, his long hair falling into his eyes. Creep.

You glanced passed him, his frame not completely blocking your view of the living room. Brian was gone. It'd be understatement to say that you were relieved you didn't wake up to find him still there. 

You decided to shrug off Tim's words, "Where's the quiet one? I'd rather deal with him than you." That was an absolute lie. Brian was a terrifying presence that still hung in the air despite you not being able to see him. Part of you thought he was hiding, listening in. 

Tim's smile twitched into a small snarl, "Sleeping," You were surprised he even told you, "Do your best not to piss me off, 'kay?" His breath still stunk of smoke and dried saliva, he hadn't brushed his teeth, "I can't guarantee that I won't stab you if you do. Don't want your screaming waking him up." His words were somewhat of an odd comfort. Brian was still human, maybe. Meaning that he had his limits, he couldn't stay up until you woke. 

There was also the tidbit of information that Tim had accidentally fed you. He cared enough about Brian's well being that he wanted him to get some good shut eye, he picked Brian's health over physically tormenting you. This made you feel a little cocky. Brian wasn't awake to listen in, to stare you down, to choke you. Tim was, but he probably wouldn't hurt you too bad, just so you wouldn't scream. You had a possible temporary immunity to extreme bodily harm on your hands and you were going to use that. 

You couldn't help but smile, you were going to be a little shit.

"Well, before you have a morning chat with me could you at least brush your teeth?" You pushed your feet into the couch, using your forearms to prop yourself. Feeling a little more in control but not very much you continued, "Because you breath is awful."

Tim's brows shot up at the challenge from you, still restrained and at his mercy. "That's funny coming from someone who can't brush her teeth." That was true, you couldn't exactly brush your teeth with your hands behind your back. You vaguely recalled seeing your toothbrush in your suitcase. The next time they let you into the bathroom you'd bring it and whatever toothpaste they probably grabbed with you. "Your breath is worse then mine."

"That's literally so wrong, it's not even funny." It was pretty funny. Tim's gaze was starting to harden. "How do you do it?" The fact that he let you get away with your first comment had you tipsy on the little power you had. "Smell so bad all the time? Did the Febreze help at all?" You breathily snickered.

Tim's face hardened, nostrils flaring and lips pushed together in an angry line.

Now you'd done it. 

A hand was shoved into your face, covering your mouth, fingers gripping your cheeks, his unkempt nails digging into your skin. He pushed your head down into the couch. His face hovered inches from yours, teeth grinding into a snarl. As your eyes widened, you took in a panicked inhale from your nose. He didn't smell bad actually. He smelled of cocoa butter.

Wait a motherfucking minute.

"If you think that I've forgotten about your _little stunt_ you're dead wrong. I just haven't come up with a punishment bad enough for your dumb ass yet." Tim lowly growled. You were terrified of him but the scent of cocoa butter on his hand was so distracting. You knew damn well that 'Dark Temptation' probably smelt of cheap cologne. Stupid anger overtook the quivering fear in your heart.

In a foolish act of spite, you opened your mouth against his calloused hand. He further squeezed your cheeks, preparing to continue his angry lecture. You dragged your tongue across his palm. The action filling you with disgust. You would have bit him if he gave you the range of motion to move your head forward. 

He tore his hand from your mouth, shooting up and away from you, feet scrambling on the carpet; more of a reaction than he'd had when you lit his face on fire. As he stood, he vigorously rubbed him wet palm on his pants leg.

"What the fuck?" Having to taste his slightly salty skin was worth the look on his face. "You fuckin' bitch." He snarled down at you, trying to keep his voice hushed, making his voice jump up an octave in anger.

You did your best to ignore your peril, "Did you use my fucking body wash?" You snapped, you knew someone like him couldn't smell that good using a three in one. 

You knew he'd showered the second he awoke you. His face was no longer crusty with sweat and he was in a hopefully clean, change of clothes. He donned a blue and yellow tye dyed t-shirt, which you'd never imagined him wearing in a million years. As well as checkered red and black pajama bottoms, reminding you of the flannel he wore while masquerading as a normal person. It just rubbed salt in your emotional wounds.

His snarl melted into a smirk, that was all the confirmation you needed. "I don't know what you're talking about." He looked awfully smug at your visible distaste.

"Don't touch my shit," You hissed quietly, very aware that Brian was sleeping and not wanting to be responsible for his waking, "Ass hat."

"Hah." Tim let out a breathy chuckle, tilting his head at you. You hadn't made a move to prop yourself up again and he stood at his full height above you. When he shifted his head, his hair shifted across his forehead. Looking a lot less greasy than usual.

"Did you use my fucking shampoo and conditioner? Are you serious?" You snarled, he'd taken so much from you already. How dare he have the nerve to use your belongings like it was nothing.

"I still don't know what you're talking about." Tim denied with a snicker, "'N plus," Your urge to kick him was rising, as he brought his bare foot up to rest on the couch next to your legs, leaning into you, _"Everything_ under this roof belongs to us." You didn't like the way he eyed you as he spoke.

A bitter disgust filled you, _"You don't fucking own me."_

Tim had an odd affect on you, that being that he made you so mad it was hard to be as scared of him as you should be. You propped yourself up once more, swinging your legs off the side of the couch and pushed yourself up into a sitting position, your feet brushing up against his leg. Sitting you were alittle more than half his height, it was still degrading to have to look up at him but it was better than taking his violating words laying down.

"Well," Small wrinkles crinkled under his eyes as he smiled down at you, "I kind of do." That was it, you were going to kick this motherfucker.

Before you could a soft set of footsteps entered the room, accompanied by a long yawn.

"Guh-good morning ya'll." Toby sounded like he'd slept well, quite a change from last night. Popping his shoulders as he held his arms above his head, he looked your and Tim's way, "Shah-shouldn't you feed her?" He lazily pointed a gloved hand at you. He really did wear those things all the time. You hoped he washed them.

He was wearing a different outfit, it was kind of a relief to not see him in the hoodie he wore while slaughtering people you knew. He donned a plain and baggy black t-shirt that hung loosely off his frame. He no longer donned dark jeans splotched with blood, instead he was wearing black and fuzzy looking pajama pants.

"You do it." Tim huffed, pulling his leg off the couch and furthering the distance between you. You thanked the stars Toby came in to get Tim's attention off of you.

"You know Bah-Brian doesn't like me cuh-cooking." Toby retorted, shuffling towards the door that led to the kitchen anyway. Eyes on you. 

"Making cereal is _not_ cooking, kid." Tim corrected. You didn't want to laugh but you let out an amused huff through your nose anyway. 

Tim ignored it, back turned to you as he made his way to the entrance to the kitchen. Toby seemed to notice the ghost of a smile on your lips, raising his brows a moment before disappearing into the kitchen. 

"Stuh-still your job though." Toby called to the older man, Tim shuffling into the kitchen behind him. 

"Whatever." Tim grunted as the sound of cabinets opening and dishes clinking together filled your ears. You were glad that your captors understood basic human needs, and were not depriving you of self grooming and food. 

You quietly sighed, letting your clenched shoulders relax in the moment of respite. Your moment of semi-relaxation was interrupted by Toby reentering the living room, butchers knife in hand. Your breath caught in your throat, eyes wide and on the knife.

You kicked your restrained feet into the floor, scooting you down the couch in a weak attempt to get away form him.

"Stuh-stay still." Toby cooed out, bounding over to you with pep in his step. He had an easy smile but there was a sadistic gleam of delight in his eyes as he watched your struggle. 

"Fuck no." You hissed, further pushing yourself down the couch as he rounded the coffee table. 

"This won't hurt tuh-too bad." He padded to your side as you attempted to hop your body onto the arm rest. "Calm down." He was really enjoying your struggle, part of you wanted to stop to deprive him of his sick entertainment, but the other part screamed louder then the other saying, 'he's going to fucking kill you get out of dodge!'

He grabbed your shoulder, and you attempted to jerk it from his grip but his hand didn't budge. Reminding you once again that all of these men, even the smallest of the three, were stronger than you were by a long shot. Without warning you were thrown onto your belly with an, "Oof!" Your face colliding with the soft cushions. You attempted to wiggle away, using your feet to try to push yourself along. 

"You look like a wah-worm right nuh-now." Toby breathily laughed. His hand removing itself from your shoulder and quickly to one of your wrists.

"Sorry I can't move in a more appealing fashion." You sarcastically retorted, looking over your shoulder the best you could. Still wiggling. 

Toby let out a single laugh before you felt cold steel on your wrists. You gasped at the sensation, your eyes screwing shut. Your brain said he was going to either let you go or cut you. Either way, you were fucked. If he let you go, Brian might get on your ass again. As quick as the sensation was on your skin, it was gone and your restraints were along with it. 

"What were you sssuh-so worried about?" He cooed, tilting his head at you with faux concern, his curls bouncing and tumbling with the motion. He wasn't stuttering as much today and he seemed to be in a chipper mood. You were unsure if that was a good or bad thing. 

You grit your teeth, with hands finally free from behind your back, you pushed yourself up from your stomach. Your legs were still bound, as you moved yourself into a sitting position once more, you saw Toby bounding out of the room. They didn't trust you not to run. Understandable but disappointing. You very much liked being able to walk and not feel like a caged animal.

Toby's actions had been merciful, yet playfully sadistic. You were like a toy to him. The bastard.

Tim returned into the living room, a blue bowl in each hand. The silver handles of spoons poking over the bowls rims. You hoped he wasn't going to feed you some sort of gruel. You wouldn't put it passed Tim to do something like that to you, they'd got you a fucking kid's meal for Christ's sake. Tim padded over to you, Toby following suit with a bowl of his own in his gloved hands. 

Tim sat next to you on the couch, sitting too close for comfort. He really needed to understand personal space. He passed you the bowl, "Here you are, buddy." He smiled sickeningly sweet at you, holding out the bowl. You snatched it from his hand with a huff. Your form of a thank you was holding your tongue. "No thank you?" Tim gasped in mock offense, "Some people." He made a show of rolling his eyes. 

The bowl was filled with Cheerios and watery looking milk. You wondered when they got milk when they'd been gone for so long. Maybe one of them went out for food while you were asleep. Either way, food is food and you weren't complaining. 

Toby plopped down on the other side of you. His leg brushed up against yours, you looked down at your barley touching clothes with disdain. Tim was too close for comfort but at least he wasn't touching you. The intrusion of personal space grated at you. Then you noticed his arms. His forearms were adorned with dark curly hair, which wasn't much of a surprise. He had the most facial hair out of all of them. Though, the hair didn't hide the healed scar tissue scattered across his arms. Flesh of a lighter color showed jagged lines traveling up his arms. A few places without any hair had distorted flesh, looking melted and hardened again. Everything you'd done to them had healed. You burned Tim badly, but the damage healing in under a day. How did he have scars?

"Toby!" Tim barked, practically in your ear. You nearly dropped your bowl. "Put a bandage on. Seeing you eat without it is fuckin' nasty. Have some manners!" Tim urged the boy beside you. You thought Tim was the one who needed manners, wincing from his loud obnoxious voice in your ear. He seemed to have forgotten about being quiet as not to wake up Brian. You hadn't paid much attention to Toby's lack of a bandage on his cheek when he came in, you were somehow getting used to these men and their weird intricacies.

Toby turned to Tim, leaning over to fully look at the man, his hair almost touching your nose as you leaned back to get out of his way. Toby stared at the man intensely for a moment, the tension between them was uncomfortable. Being between it was not very enjoyable. 

Toby grabbed his spoon and shoveled a spoon full of cereal into his mouth. He chewed on the cereal obnoxiously with an open mouth. You got to see the disgusting sight of him chewing on the cereal as his gash was facing you and Tim. Some of the milk dribbled from the gash and onto your pants. You cringed.

"Toby! That's fucking nasty!" Tim lectured with an edge of annoyance. He was right, it was a gross sight to get to see the process of chewing so up close.

Swallowing with a smug smile, he set his bowl down on the coffee table. He shot up from his seat beside you and bounded towards the hall, clicking his wrists repetitively. You were terrified of the man, but the spiteful act of defiance had you sucking your lips into your mouth, trying not to smile.

You received a sharp kick to your ankle from Tim,"The fuck you smilin' for?" You supposed you couldn't hide it that well.

You weren't stupid enough to fully admit that you thought Toby's actions were entertaining, "I'm just thankful for the food." You sounded like a white soccer mom saying 'Grace'.

You weren't even trying to hide the fact that you were lying through your teeth, an obnoxious smile plastered on your lips.

Tim straightened his lips in a line with a, "You better be." 

You decided to leave it there for now, opting to eat over converse with Tim. You looked to your bowl, bringing it close to your face and beginning to shovel heaps of cereal into your mouth. You hadn't had an actual meal in twelve or so hours. You were starving.

You were so engrossed in your meal that you didn't notice Toby return. It was only when he plopped next to you once more that you perked up, jumping and gripping your bowl tightly. Toby let out a snicker at your surprise, his leg brushed up against yours once more. You shot him a questioning glance but didn't open your mouth. With a bandage covering the hole in his face, he began to eat while staring you down. Disturbed, you looked back into your bowl.

Brian's words came back to you. He's aware of your plan to use Toby if you could. If he walked out and saw you two being a little too chummy, he'd wring your neck. However, he couldn't fully stop Toby from his actions. Toby did not want to be your friend but he did want a new stimulus, and that was you. Brian wouldn't want to forbid Toby from enjoying himself by being around you. You'd just have to be pleasant enough to Toby. You couldn't be too nice or jokey with him. You had to be aware of how you treated his partners and let your behavior towards him fall in step with how you treat the others. 

You were mostly tuning out your surroundings to think of escape but you overheard a small exchange between the evil men at either of your sides.

"Just eat it like a normal person." Tim huffed as you chewed.

There was a soft clinking noise beside you as well as the sound what you think was the cereal shifting. "I don't like it Cu-crunchy." 

With a note of mild disgust Tim continued, "Eating it when it's soggy is fuckin' nasty."

Toby clicked his tongue, simply stating, "Eating it crunchy is for puh-pussies."

Tim sounded genuinely offended, "How the _fuck_ does me eating cereal the _right way_ make me a pussy?" 

You could hardly think between their exchange, you decided to give up planning and listen in fully. "It just duh-does." Toby stated matter-of-factly. 

" _How?"_ Tim didn't yell, most likely not to wake Brian but you could tell in the way he spat his words out he wanted to, and he was still pretty fucking loud.

"Because you're too ssscuh-scared to eat cereal when it's soft. That muh-makes you a total pussy." You had to hold in a snort, body slightly jerking as you did so. Toby let out a triumphant huff.

"No it does not." Tim hissed, his fragile ego was on the line, "You're a freak for eating it the way you do."

"At least I'm not a quivering puh-pussy like you are." Toby cackled, shoving into a spoonful of now soggy cereal into his mouth.

"What the fuck ever." Tim huffed. The exchange was of some entertainment to you, sounding like a petty argument between two siblings. It was sickening how human they could be. They weren't humans to you. They didn't deserve moments of jabbing banter like this, they shouldn't be able to make you smile and remind you of the Baker siblings arguing about god knows what.

As you continued to eat, muscles tense between your chattering company, you felt someone brush up against your arm. You pulled yourself from your thoughts to look towards what was touching you. Toby was still looking at you, smiling eerily. There was nothing friendly about it. He was closer than the last time he'd sat beside you, your upper arms were brushing together. He understood the concept of personal space even less than Tim, which was a huge feat. Then you smelled that scent again, cocoa butter.

Swallowing a mouth full of food you began, "Did you use my body wash?" You shifted your body away from him, aware that Tim was close to you. You did not want to touch that guy too.

"Yeah!" At least he was honest, it still pissed you off though, "Your hair ssshuh-shit too!" You didn't know if you preferred the creepy honesty or the coy lying. He grimaced, cracking his head to side with a little grunt. "It's actually really nuh-nice." You'd be glad he discovered the wonders of using separate products if he hadn't killed people you cared about. Instead you felt anger surge in your gut. "My hairs really sssuh-soft right now, feel it!" His tone was that of excitement and pride but the fact that he snatched one of your wrists made it less sweet. Your bowl tipped in your hand, you were luckily able to steady it before anything spilled.

Toby dragged your open palm to the side of his head, disgust churning in your stomach. He was not only touching you but he was touching you in the soft ways a friend touches you. Limbs brushing up against one another as you watched bad movies together. Jokingly grabbing at them. His touch didn't have the same tender innocence to it, his touch wasn't like Sully's. He wasn't exactly forcing his body completely onto yours but the little unwelcome touches made your heart thunder in your chest. It was terrifying and foreign.

He dragged your hand back and forth through his hair, "Nice right?" His hair slid smoothly beneath your fingers, it made your skin crawl. His curly hair was coarse, but there was definitely less grease to it and it looked more tamed. The look on his face told you he knew what he was doing. He knew you were scared. "I think I'll buh-be using your stuuh-stuff from now on." He was trying to rile you up. He wanted to test your reactions for fun. He just wanted some fun.

You jerked your arm back, you didn't escape his grip. He stared you down a moment longer before letting you go, cracking his fingers after.

"Do me a favor and _don't_." You hissed, slapping your hand around your bowl, rubbing it on the porcelain like it'd cleanse you of the few moments of disturbingly intimate touch. 

"Hmm." Toby tilted his head, pretending to consider your words a moment. "I'm guh-going to anyway." You knew it was coming, the guy was a little shit after all. It still pissed you off immensely. 

"Ahem." Tim obnoxiously cleared his throat, interrupting your and Toby's little 'moment'. You shoveled your spoon into the depleting bowl of cereal, pushing it into your mouth once it was full of the food. You didn't look at him to acknowledge him. "So," He clicked his tongue, "What were ya dreamin' about?" His question was reminiscent of a young teenage girl the morning after a sleepover. 

"Nuffing." You grunted, mouth full. You were not about to chitchat about your dreams with him. They were sometimes a peaceful respite away from the men who tormented you. Sometimes they'd follow you into your dreams.

"Oh, so you weren't dreaming about that Dan guy then?" His words cut through you as you recalled that you'd told Dan to go away as he woke you. 

Swallowing the cereal, you tutted, "Nope." Popping the 'p'.

"If you don't tell me what you were dreaming about I'm going to take away your food privileges." Tim informed you flatly, you whipped your head his way with a look of bewilderment. He was smiling but you knew one thing for sure about Tim; he hated your guts and would probably use any petty excuse to torment you.

You'd comply, somewhat, "I was dreaming about Dan, yeah," You looked to your cereal bowl, fingers clutching the ceramic like it was your lifeline, "Old times." You laughed bitterly; you didn't care to elaborate. 

"Aah," Tim mused, "That wannabe badass back at the cabin." The way he spoke made it sound like he was reliving a pleasant memory, something like a birthday party or old lover. Instead it was a dead man. You gripped the bowl harder, grinding your teeth.

"Yuh-you mean the one I killed-duh?" You herd Toby pop his joints beside you. He didn't even know Dan's name when he killed him. It was disgusting, yet ironically relatable. 

"Yeah, that's the one." Tim drawled, placing his empty bowl on the coffee table. 

"Oh-ho-ho-ho!" Toby's body shook as he chuckled, you hated the fact that he was still pressed against you. "I could tell that his deh-death was really," He lowered his head next to yours, murmuring the words into your ear, " _Really_ painful." You locked your jaw, hands shaking. You had to ignore him, you couldn't let him win. "Even the-though I fucking tuh-tore out his voice box and he cuh-couldn't scream." Toby's voice melted into one of delight into one of something darker, blood lust. You felt like throwing up your breakfast, your stomach churning dangerously. "You should have sssuh-seen the way he tried to crawl-awl away. Not tuh-to mention his face." You could feel Toby's eyes scanning your face for a reaction. There wasn't much you could do to stop him from pouring out the horrible details of Dan's demise to you.

At least not with physical force.

"Why did you guys do that anyways?" You forced a topic change passed your lips, "I know **he** has to do something with it! Who is **he**?" 

Toby stopped ticking, the smug smile leaving his face. 

The quiet lasted too long for your question to be one that could be shrugged off. This was something bigger than them. Something they couldn't sweep under the carpet and hope you won't notice.

_"The Operator."_ Out of all people you wouldn't have guessed that Tim would tell you something actually useful. You don't know where this sudden change of demeanor came from but you preferred it over his constant act of, ' _Hey look at me! I'm the leader! Look at my puffed out chest. I'm a real man's man. My dick is not less then two inches long.'_ You hoped he'd show this side of himself more often. 

"Timothy." You'd never heard Toby sound so genuine, so shocked. 

"Shit." Tim huffed. He could have just said he was fucking with you for laughs, but his curse just confirmed the tidbit of information for you. **He** was The Operator. 

"What does The Operator want?" After Tim verbally realized his mistake, you weren't confident on getting more answers. You still asked anyway. You were going to wear them down eventually, you just had to keep pushing.

"That's none of your concern." Tim deadpanned, something you weren't used to. He was always so reactionary.

"Yes it is, because according to you," You set your partially empty bowl on the coffee table, "I'm being," You made air quotes, "Considered. Considered for what? What does he want with me? What does he want from you guys?" You didn't mean it in a way that you cared for them, you just had to know.

 _"_ Way to go duh-dumb ass." Toby sounded disapproving but also like he was enjoying himself. "What hap-happened to not telling her anything-ing?" You assumed Toby was taking Tim's slip up as an excuse to get a good jab in on him. Toby had purposefully told you information in the car and now Tim had told you some too. Quite hypocritical, but Tim seemed to be the king of that. 

"Shut the fuck up, kid." Tim growled, there was the Tim that you knew, "You fucked up first." 

"You stuh-started it." Once again they bickered, with your sorry ass in between them.

"Oh please," You could practically hear Tim rolling his eyes, "Do tell how _I started it."_

 _"You_ mmmmuh-made it awkward!" Toby cracked his knuckles, with loud sickening pops. "I had tuh-to clear the ah-air." So he felt uncomfortable by awkward silence as well? Interesting.

Tim sighed, "No I didn't." You were beginning to feel like they were forgetting you were there. As they both leaned over and across you to further get into one another's face. 

"Yeah you duh-did." These two were like gasoline and a match. Fine if separate, but a disaster if put together. Sure, there was the underlying solidarity and deep bond that you sensed from the two, but they butted heads like no tomorrow. You assumed that living together and doing such awful acts with one another would probably make you quite close. Maybe not, murder tore your and Jen's relationship apart. Either way, if the match was lit then it was all over. You had to stop them before they were kicking each others asses with you caught in the cross fire.

"So fellas!" You practically yelled out, internally smacking yourself for forgetting momentarily about the sleeping Brian, "What uh..." They paused their bickering to stare you down, you had to think of something quick. You blurted out the first thing that came to mind, "What happened to the motorcycle, haha?" You forced out an awkward laugh, feeling anxious over your question. What if they beat your ass for opening your mouth to interrupt them?

They didn't immediately back off one another but Toby did answer your question, he didn't seem to mind jumping from topic to topic, as long as people were talking, "Didn't you ssuh-see?" That was a step in the right direction, that direction being your ass not being whooped.

"See what?" You urged him to continue, he slowly began moving back to his original spot lounging on the couch, his leg bumping into you again. 

"We tied the motorcycle to the back of of the van." Tim copied Toby's movement, backing off. You were glad the situation deescalated thanks to your quick thinking but you still couldn't relax. You were still sandwiched between two murderers after all; with your legs zip-tied together.

"Oh uhm." You pressed your lips into a line, how did they do that? "Alright." Tension still hung in the air but at least the men weren't about to throw down. Hopefully.

"Why do you care?" Tim asked, an accusatory note to his voice. You didn't appreciate it. You just saved him the trouble of kicking Toby's ass. You wouldn't admit it but if the men threw down, you'd put your money on Tim. As much as you hated it, Tim was just a bigger guy and the bigger guy usually had the advantage.

"Just curious." You hummed as casually as possible, tapping your shoes on the carpet. Your ankles were unfortunately still tied so you couldn't just up and walk away from this conversation.

"I bet that you're thinkin' you can escape on it, huh?" Tim continued his accusation. That wasn't such a bad idea, if you knew how to ride a motorcycle. Which you did not. You'd always assumed it was like a bike but much, much harder.

Then the realization dawned upon you. With a gasp of realization, your two brain cells hard at work, you began, "You're just like a chihuahua!" 

" _What?"_ The thing about realizing things aloud is that you don't think about other peoples reactions; Tim's voice almost breaking as he let out the exclamation. 

Toby snorted and began to cackle. 

" _The fuck you say to me you little shit?"_ Tim hissed, a fist snatching the neckline of your sweatshirt and tugging you to the side. He pulled your torso to fully face him. Uh-oh.

"Sssuh-say it again! Say it again!" Toby spoke between hardy laughs. 

"Well I mean." Tim's eyes bore into yours, you didn't look away, you were going to face this head on. "You bark at every little thing, you're just like a chihuahua. All bark and no bite!" It was true. You hardly had to try to set him off. He acted like he was so big and bad, which he was, but he was painfully unaware that Brian was much scarier then he'd ever be. You were convinced your fight or flight instincts malfunctioned around the man because most of the time you were just plain mad at him. Big ego, lots of bark and way less bite, chihuahua. 

"Oh I'll _show_ you a chihuahua." Tim growled through grit teeth, you suddenly felt a lot less safe. You couldn't help but snort at the fact that he called himself a chihuahua though. He didn't find your amusement very entertaining as he bunched your shirt up tighter in his fist. 

"Hey." Brian's voice cut through the room, through Toby's cackling, Tim's rage, your fear and amusement. All three of your heads snapped in his direction. You gulped at his unreadable expression. You hoped he didn't choke you out for talking to his companions. "You need to see something." His hazel eyes bore into yours. 

Suddenly, Tim released your sweatshirt, only to grab you by your sides. "Hey!" You feebly yelled as you were tossed over Tim's shoulder like you were a sack of potatoes. "Put me down, I have legs asshole!" You did your best to kick him with your ankles zip-tied together. You pounded your fists uselessly on his back as he stood up. 

Toby snickered at your situation, you tilted your head his way and shot him a dirty look. He gave you a cheeky grin, the bandage on his cheek crinkling with his smile. You scowled at the boy, him getting up from the couch to follow. You returned to pounding your fists on Tim's back.

Tim carried you down the hallway, lowering his shoulder a moment only to jerk it up into your stomach. You lurched, thankfully not throwing up your breakfast. As you reeled from the pain, you passed the threshold to a room you'd never been in before. You could see the wooden floor, crumpled up pieces of paper littering the floor. 

Tim slid you backward, your feet touching the ground, you facing him. He roughly turned you around, hands on your shoulders. You shrank under his touch but could not escape it. You stumbled a moment, feeling awkward with your ankles still bound. You were faced towards a chunky grey TV, you only focused on it, everything else fading into the background.

Because on the grainy TV was a freeze frame of Sully. He was obviously crying, his freckled face red and splotchy, his ginger hair messy and disheveled. Your mouth fell agape. 

The TV roared with static as it's image was unpaused. The picture glitched out in lines of bright pink and green for a few moments before snapping into normalcy. Sully's voice cut through the fading static. 

_"-ver! I know she didn't do it. Her and Emile were friends,"_ Sully batted away a few thick tears, " _She's a sweet girl who's been though a lot. You can't just fucking pin it on her because it's convenient for you!"_ He was yelling into the microphone held up to his face by a woman who looked only mildly concerned at his distress.

You'd never seen him angry, he was more of a crier than anything. Sure, he got frustrated but he never actually yelled and cursed at somebody. Yet here he was, face slick with tears and red with rage. 

" _So you're saying you don't think she did it?"_ The woman pulled the microphone to her face, looking infuriatingly skeptical of Sully's idea. 

" _Of course I am! Do you know the shit she's been through? She's traumatized, she has to leave the room whenever somebody gets a paper cut. That's how horrified she is of blood."_ Sully had to take a few heavy breaths, wiping his eyes with the backs of his hands. _"She didn't do it."_

 _"Then why did she go missing? Don't you think it's suspicious that she went missing after the murders?"_ Murders, plural. There were two bodies left to rot in Corydon in the span of twelve hours. One of them was by your own hands. " _Are you denying the camera footage that the Johnson residence got of the murder of officer Jimmy Holt?"_ Your breath was caught in your throat, that was his name. Jimmy Holt. The man you mindlessly set ablaze. You hadn't even known his name. 

" _That footage is too full of static to be completely sure!"_ Your stomach felt like it was plummeting off Mount Everest. There was footage of your actions. And Sully had seen it. 

_"I beg to differ. Johnny, to you."_ The woman looked to the camera. The screen transitioned to a man who looked like his name was Johnny. White with a receding hairline. 

" _Thanks Cindy. This footage is so graphic that we had to censor most of the image, but you can see a clear image of the perpetrators face here."_ Beside the man a grainy photo appeared. It was a grainy image of you, Febreeze in hand, face fully in the cameras view. A large area of the image was a blob of red and yellow pixels; the man's burning corpse. _"Authorities are ninety-nine percent sure that this woman,"_ Beside the grainy screenshot, another image faded onto the screen," _(Y/n) (L/n)."_ The pixelated photo was zoomed in on, showing low quality image but it was definitely your face. One photo was of you screaming, in the middle of murdering a man and the other was you grinning, making finger guns at the camera. _"Needs to be brought to justice, if you have any information about her whereabouts-"_

There was something wrong with the picture, as your heart thudded in your chest, world crumbling around you all you could focus on was on thing. Just behind your head, behind a house was a few pixels. You couldn't look away. The picture was horrible quality but you just knew it wasn't camera distortion. There was a tall thing standing at the edge of a house, so tall that you couldn't see its neck and up. You blinked, willing it away but it stayed on the screen, unmoving. 

You tuned the man out, hyperventilating, shaking, crying. You looked like yourself in the photo but at the same time you looked like a different person. Eyes empty but mouth open, lips pulled back, you bearing your teeth in a snarl. You couldn't believe that was you. You couldn't believe that something was behind you. You killed somebody. You killed Jimmy Holt. There was something watching, your gut told you so.

Your hands flew up to your face, you curled into yourself, quaking.

This couldn't be happening. But it was.

You mumbled, a few incoherent words passed your lips, pressing your hands into your flesh. You let out pathetic whimpers, painfully aware of the men watching your reactions intently. _Fuck them all._

 _"-on't care. That's not her."_ Sully's voice pierced your ears, your head shooting up to look. He was always so trusting and naive. " _I know (Y/n). She wouldn't ever."_ But you did. " _Something happened to her. I know she wouldn't just disappear like this."_ He said with conviction, he was right on the money, " _I know she didn't do it and I know she's out there and something is wrong."_

" _(Y/n)."_ His voice was soft, no longer rough around the edges. It was the voice he used with you when you'd call him sobbing over a sound you heard in your living room. It was comforting. The tall thing fell from your mind, the murder falling quickly behind it.

Shaking, you unfurled, hands peeling away from your wet face. You looked tearfully up at the ginger who you called your best friend.

" _If you're watching this,"_ He snatched the microphone from thereporter, his grainy gaze met yours, _"No, I know you're watching this. You have to be, please be safe."_ You weren't safe in the slightest but he didn't need to know that. " _Take care of yourself, please. I'm sorry I didn't get to say goodbye."_ He sniffled, a bitter sweet smile on his lips; blaming himself for other peoples problems was a habit of his. Of course he'd pin your lack of a heartwarming goodbye on himself. It was far from his fault.

" _Things may not be as okay as we'd like them to be,"_ He took in a shaky breath, " _But I want you to remember yourself."_ He always knew just what to say. " _You're so strong, queen."_ The obnoxiously gay nickname sweetly rolled off his tongue, you cracked a smile despite the hot tears running down your face, _"I know that you'll be okay, wherever you are. Me and Mom miss you a lot."_ The finality in his tone tore you apart.

You'd follow his advice, you'd keep on keeping on. You'd keep on fighting tooth and nail. No matter the setbacks, you'd move forward. You'd cry when you had to but you'd keep moving. That was just who you were now and you were going to listen to Sully. You weren't going to give in. You felt your hands curling into fists. 

" _Well that was Sullivan Gaylord and-"_ The news anchor reached for the microphone, Sully dodged her hand.

" _I have one more thing to say."_ Sully let the words quickly spill from his mouth, " _(Y/n)."_ You stood a little taller, looking into his tearful gaze through the TV. You felt that he was really looking at you instead of the camera. " _Don't forget the most important thing I've ever taught you."_ He was not just about to live on air. The crooked grin on his face and the bittersweet gleam of mischief in his eyes told you he was.

_"The lyrics to Khia's My Neck, My Back."_ He giggled into the mic, the reporter looked confused. She was frozen, not sure if she should go for the microphone yet, looking worriedly to whoever stood behind the camera, _"If you need a refresher,"_ You let out a giggling sob, " _All you ladies pop yo' pussy like this."_ The reporter dove for Sully with a look of bewilderment, he dodged.

As he continued, you joined him. His voice staticy, your voice cracking from sorrow," _Shake your body, don't stop, don't miss. All you ladies pop yo' pussy like this."_ You both didn't harmonize at all, you were laughing and crying, stumbling over your words and he was dodging the reporters frenzied attempts to grab the mic. 

Sully dodged the reporter once more, grinning as she called for the camera man to cut the feed. _"Shake your body, don't stop, don't miss."_ You both had fat tears rolling down your faces despite your glowing smiles, _"Just do it, do it, do it, do it now. Li-"_ The feed cut to a static image that read 'technical difficulties'. You knew damn well their only difficulty was Sullivan Gaylord, the sweetest man you'd ever met. 

You stopped your shaky reciting of the vulgar lyrics. Your bent forward once more, hands on your knees. Tears burning your eyes as you laughed. Were you mentally scarred? Yes. Were you going to keep fighting with a smile on your face? Hell yes. For Sully.

_"What the actual fuck."_


	20. 19 -  Fortnite and Catharsis

You couldn't stop laughing, shoulders bouncing with heaving breaths. You felt horrible, you were wanted for murder. Your family had probably seen the video. You had nowhere to go if you escaped. However, you already planned to be a forest hermit doing god knows what with sticks and mud. Did it really make a difference? Not really. It still fucking sucked but it was funny. Sully gasping out ' _My Neck, My Back'_ on live TV after giving you the well deserved pep talk that you needed felt like it made up for everything. A real beacon of hope in the darkness that had consumed your life. You'd always have loving memories and those lyrics ingrained in your brain. They could never take them away. They could never take away your hope no matter how hard they tried.

That made you feel fucking invincible. 

You swung around on your heels, the movement stiff and awkward from the bindings on your ankles. Your face slicked with tears but your smile was wide.

They were close, only a few feet away, standing in a semi-circle around you. Toby was the leftmost to you, pounding his fists on his knees, howling out laughter and incoherent words of delighted surprise. You got the situation was funny but he was still laughing at your pain, the goddamn rat. Brian stood rightmost, looking mostly unphased. You saw the ghost of a frown on his lips, he didn't want you to laugh, he just wanted you to cry. He did this to hurt you, you just wanted to smile wider at his failed attempt.

Tim stood in the center, opening and closing his mouth. You felt triumphant having momentarily left him flabbergasted. You were still laughing as you scanned their reactions but Tim's stupid fucking face was too good. Your laughter picked up, coming out in harsh ragged barks. 

_"What the actual fuck?"_ Tim breathed out, clenching and unclenching his fists at your laughter clearly directed at him.

One part of you screamed that you were weak for showing basic human emotions to them but the louder more rational part of you said crying was okay. Crying is natural and if they thought you weak for crying, they were the weak ones. Crying is a cathartic necessary human experience, you did it when shit got rough but it'd make you feel better. 

Your belting laughter died down into breathy giggles, your body swaying side to side idly. Your arms loosely hanging from your shoulders, you felt as relaxed as could be. You felt that nothing they could do would ever truly hurt you. You were unbreakable. 

Toby had stopped his laughter before you, though he was still grinning. Tim and Brian just stared you down, willing your joy away with their piercing eyes. That wouldn't work.

"So," You tilted your head at Brian, your smile didn't falter under the pressure, "Why'd you show me that, _Brian_?" You felt that namedropping them would make the conversation feel more equal to you. You know they didn't see you as an equal and you saw them as an inhuman garbage fire. 

"Did you see **him**?" Brian ignored your question, you didn't let it kill your mood. It only made you feel like more of a spiteful fuck.

"You mean the news anchor guy?" You knew exactly who he was talking about, The Operator, "His hairline! Yeesh right?" You didn't hide the fact that you were playing dumb, gesturing an exaggerated shrug with your arms. 

Brian took a step forward, just one, a warning. Too bad warnings were often read and you couldn't fucking read. Well, you could, you just acted like you were illiterate. 

"Or do you mean someone else?" Your smile widened, you weren't supposed to know **his** title. "Like _The Operator_ for instance?" You cocked your head to the other side, hands now on your hips. 

Brian turned his head to his companions, lips twitching into an annoyed line. A reaction that only spurred you on. "Who told her?" His shoulders were tensed.

Silence fell over the room, Tim and Toby glancing at one another.

"Tim duh-did it!" Toby pointed a finger at Tim, prodding it into his chest.

Tim smacked away his gloved hand with a scowl, "Snitch."

"Aaah-asshole." Toby retorted with a snicker. 

You didn't take kindly to being ignored, "So!" You clapped your hands together, catching their attention, "Who exactly is The Operator?" They didn't seem to enjoy you smiling as you spoke out the title so casually. 

"You saw him then didn't you," Brian began simply, "the man in the suit?" The simple description brought up the memory of the thing behind you in the grainy footage. 

You let the conversation fall into a tense lull as your brain slowly pieced together the information. Your brain processing that the thing behind you was most likely what they were referring to. They seemed wary of it, scared even. You let out a wheezy laugh. They were scared of a fucking stick figure. 

"Wait. You are _not_ telling me that twig is," You shook your hands, palms towards them as you spoke out the title, " _Th_ e _Operator_ right?" you felt a sharp laugh leave your lungs, hysterical, wheezing. You couldn't believe it. "Ooh, scary! A tall man in business attire!" You hissed through a grin. 

You saw the way they paused. There was incoming danger, this was the calm before the storm; you could sense the tension in the group around you. You felt like not even god could touch you. You were at rock bottom with a pickaxe and you were willingly digging yourself lower; just because you couldn't stop the flow of hate and spite from passing your lips.

" _Don't talk about him like that."_ Tim hissed, his brows and frown showed off anger, but you could see a spark of fear in his eyes.

You cocked a brow with a cruel laugh, "Awwww," You forced a look of faux concern onto your features, "You don't want me shit talking your _twink boss?"_ You pouted your lips, batting your eyelashes. 

Out of nowhere, there was tickling sensation in the back of your throat. You didn't attempt to hold off the cough, you let it tear up and out of your lungs with a giggling hack. It burned, you felt like your windpipe was being clogged and closed shut. The coughs still forced their way out of your throat. A fist flew up to your mouth, cheeks puffing out with the forced gusts of air. As your lungs rattled, your mouth forced out hot and warm chunks of blood and phlegm into your fist. You didn't give a shit, a smile still spread across your bloody lips. 

You refused to screw your eyes shut in pain, you refused to curl up and keel over. You kept your eyes open, wild and alert.

"Keep your fuh-fucking mouth shhhuh-shut." Toby growled, you couldn't take him seriously right now. There was something about being in pajamas that made someone way less scary. 

The coughing subsided, your teeth and tongue red with blood. You pulled your fist away from your face, dark globs of blood speckled your (s/c) skin. Soaking in the taste of blood on your tongue. You hated it. You couldn't stand the sight of blood but now you were seeing it and tasting it. Blood tasted of disgust and hate.

" _Or what? Huh?"_ Your voice was hoarse and weak, making you cringe, but your words were filled with venom, " _You gonna kill me?"_

 _"I just might."_ Tim growled, taking a dangerous step forward. You were in too deep to backtrack now. All or nothing.

" _Listen here, mister fighter."_ You spat out the first thing that came to mind, it was a simple nickname but the way he sucked in his lips told you he didn't care for it. You closed the distance by hopping once, landing awkwardly but balancing yourself out. Then once again, you had a little too much fun in the moment, feeling like a kid doing hopscotch. Instead of a blacktop with messy squares drawn in chalk to hop onto, it was the shitty floorboards of a murderer's room.

You were nearly toe to toe with him, good enough. Looking up at him, his hair casting a shadow over his eyes. It made him seem like more of a pathetic coward to you, he hid behind a mask of confidence and sharp words.

You jabbed a finger into his chest snarling, lips curled back, " _You don't have the balls to kill me."_ You were surprised about his odd amount of restraint, maybe because he was Brian's little bitch and probably told him not to kill you because they were afraid. 

_"Fuck you."_ Tim didn't lower himself to your level, he looked down his nose and at you like you were an ant to be stomped. The way he articulated the phrase told you everything you needed to know. They really couldn't kill you, they had to hold back, you were fucking invincible. 

A cackle rose from your torn throat, you quickly threw your head back and let out a rumbling guffaw. You couldn't tell if you were crying out of desperate hollow sorrow or if the fact that the big bad Masky was afraid of something so pathetic looking. Your hands flew to your stomach as you continued to laugh, " _It's always the 'fuck you' with you isn't it?"_ Your head snapped back into place, you met his gaze with excitement. You tilted your head dumbly at the man, " _What_ 's _changed because of that? Where are you but here? What are you but afraid of a little twig man?"_ Your eyes were practically bulging out of their sockets as you questioned the man looking down at you with an unreadable level of rage. He was shaking, trying to contain himself, " _Look at you. You're shaking."_ You made a show of looking him up and down. You felt powerful, in control. He towered over you but you felt taller than him. 

For the millionth time in his life, he had to use his words to try and intimidate you. You were pushing him passed his limits, he'd snap like a tense rubber band any second now.

" _I feel better,"_ He spoke through gritted teeth, " _I got pleasure from that."_ He was holding himself back as hard as he could. The other men would shut you up any second now, but you wanted to degrade him into the ground.

You didn't think you were suicidal, but you had proven to have a masochistic streak, " _Aah."_ You nodded your head in false understanding. You were playing with an out of control house fire that just burnt a whole family to a crisp. You were on too much of a manic high to care. " _A reprieve."_ You growled lowly, you couldn't get enough of the red rage that was showing upon his skin. You felt drunk with power. " _A comfort,"_ You cruelly chuckled at him, it was hypocritical as you'd done the same to him many times before, " _I_ _can understand it!"_ You perked up with a sweet smile that was filthily fake," _But I can't respect it. You're a coward."_

If there was one thing you'd figured out about Tim. It was that he demanded respect from those around him. They didn't fight it, no, they willingly gave it to him. They were a fucked up unit of found family. They cared about each other to some sick degree. You knew that by challenging Tim the way that you were, you were challenging all of them. 

The shit eating grin across your face was forced off your features as a hard ball of flesh slammed itself into your skull. _"SHUT UP!"_

Your left eye exploded in pain as your head snapped back. You threw your hands behind yourself to somewhat cushion the fall, your bound legs struggling fruitlessly. It somewhat worked as you fell onto your ass and hands. Your wrists screamed at the sudden jolt of weight forced upon them, you didn't think they were broken.

Your head was lulled back, your smile was gone and replaced with a grimace of pain, of anger. You weren't scared of the meat heads before you. Your face hurt like hell but you wouldn't stop, " _I should'a known from the start you're all just a bunch of pussies,"_ You slowly raised your head forward, neck aching, " _But none of you have a mind of your own, huh?"_ With your head back up once more, you gave them a smile filled with blood and teeth. " _You're just a bunch'a drones huh? Subordinates for the big bad twink?"_

_**THUNK!**_

You weren't expecting to see Brian with his fist to the wall. He was staring you down, lips parted letting out a hiss through clenched teeth. You expected Toby to hit something or you before Brian did. Toby himself had been violently twitching the entire time, popping his joints, contorting his fingers, jerking his head to his shoulder. He was angry for sure but not in the grouchy way you'd seen him last night. He was quietly angry which was something you didn't expect from him.

Tim still held his fist out, frozen in place after it made impact with your flesh. He was nearly hyperventilating, eyes ahead and blank. You didn't give a shit about his mental state, you wanted him dead. 

Brian surged forward, you didn't scoot away from his incoming form. You refused to cower beneath him. You'd show him that he couldn't control you. 

A large hand grabbed a fistful of your hair. Screaming and baring your teeth, your hands flew up to the wrist attached to the hand. You dug your nails into Brian's skin as he lifted you from the floor. He kept on lifting you even after you'd been fully stood up. He lifted you to his eyes level, your feet hovering lightly above the ground. You pulled some of your body weight up with your hands but not by much, you were still dangling by your head. The thing about dangling by the head without any support is that if you struggle, you risk the chance of damaging your spine. You couldn't do anything but dig your nails into his skin and growl.

"You're right," Brian began meeting your wild gaze with one of thinly veiled anger, his hazel eyes darting between yours, "We have no control." You didn't expect him of all people to give up such information, he acted like he was the smartest but that was a stupid fucking move. "But you know what?" He tutted, his fist further clenched your hair. It fucking hurt. You felt like your scalp was going to detach itself from your skull and you'd hit the floor, hairless. " You don't either." He shook you ever so slightly, your neck screamed at the action while you body limply swayed beneath you. _"You are under our control."_

"No the fuck I'm not!" You barked out, tears of pain slipping down your cheeks.

"Yes you are." Brian continued, you didn't feel so invincible anymore. "And you know it. Your little struggle is _pitiful_." He lifted you an inch higher. He was right but you refused to admit it.

" _Goober fucking loves me more!_ " You messily dodged the truthful statement. He had a soft spot for _your_ dog and you were going to attempt to use it against him. You'd gotten a taste of power over Tim and wanted some over Brian, the scariest motherfucker you've ever met.

"Duh-don't talk to Buh-Brian like that." Toby hissed. It was just a comment about your dog, you didn't expect him to jump to Brian's defense. Especially regarding Goober who didn't seem to matter to Toby. Maybe it was the snotty tone that did it.

"You're deflecting." Brian flatly called your bluff, while your arms shook with the effort of holding some of your weight. He held you like you were made of nothing and took the nails burying themselves into his skin like a champ.

"And you think I'm scared of you," You eyed him, grimacing at the agony wracking though your spine, "You think you've got me trained like a dog. Don't 'cha, _Brian?"_ You were terrified of him but you had no respect for him. He was practically begging for it. You spit a thick glob of blood and saliva at him. It landed on his cheek with a soft ' _smack'_. It began to slowly roll down his cheek as you grinned at him. 

The area around your left eye was pounding where Tim had struck you. You could feel your blood rushing and pooling beneath your skin. It was going to leave a mark.

He didn't react like you'd wished he had. He gave hardly any indication that the spit had even touched him at all. All you got was the twitch of a sneer on his lip before his expression melted back into his cool uninterested one.

" _You fuckin' whore."_ You heard Tim snarl as you continued to stare Brian down. Brian did something you weren't expecting, look towards his partner with a look of _'uh-oh'_. 

Suddenly your body wasn't hanging so limply, you were swung in a dizzying semi-circle. You screamed at the horrid movement. Face throbbing and scalp set alight with agony. 

_**THUMP!**_

You couldn't help but screw your eyes shut as your body swayed sickeningly back and forth like a rag doll. " _BRIAN, PUT HER DOWN RIGHT FUCKING NOW!"_

"No." Brian let out a sharp breath, "You know what will happen if you kill her." He spoke quickly with a cautious certainty, he was trying to save your life. Not for you, but because they couldn't kill you, because they're afraid of what **he** will do for directly disobeying **his** orders.

_**THUMP!**_

 _"ROGERS, GET THE FUCK OFF OF ME!"_ Tim roared as you felt Brian begin to walk, you still dangling from his fist.

Your eyes refused to open yet they still burned as tears forced their way passed your tear ducts. The pain was quickly stripping you of your devil may care attitude, sending panic through your blood. Everything was shit and you still had hope; however, you'd just _fucked up._

"Cah-calm down. Duh-do you want **him** to pah-pah-punish us, _again?"_ You didn't know what punishment Toby was referring to but if it scared them it had to be a viscerally wicked, mind-fucking, punishment. "Ssshuh-she's not-ot worth it." Whatever it was they'd experienced, Tim didn't care, he was trying to pull the younger boy off of him, just to get to you.

Your hands were shaking around Brian's wrist as you both moved towards an unknown direction. Fear was returning to you in a bone crushing wave. You may not die, but you really fucking hated the idea of torture. You'd fight back, forever and always with a smile but you knew pain and didn't quite enjoy it.

There were alarming grunts and shouts. Sounds of scraping, heavy things being slammed against the floor or wall. Whatever was happening between the two made the house rattle and shake, you felt the aftershock of the rattle in the form of a slight tremor that flowed through Brian's fist tangled in your hair.

You knew you fucked up, you knew you were in for something awful, but all you could really concentrate was the agony from your scalp. You just wanted to be put down, then you'd fully regret multiple life choices. 

You were granted your wish sooner than you'd have thought. The back of your legs brushed up against something you couldn't feel through your sweats. Then a calloused hand was placed over yours, it pried your grip from the wrist you'd latched yourself onto. It quickly tore the other off the wrist as well as you grimaced. Then the balled up fist in your hair relaxed and let you slip from the horrible grip, your body limping falling from his grasp.

Your watery eyes shot open as you fell, letting out a squeak of shock. Your eyes were met with the passing image of black and white fabric in your view. Then you landed ass first into a comfy chair. With an, "Oof!" You fell backwards, arms flailing to find something to steady yourself. Your back harshly collided with the pleasantly comfortable cushion. It was reminiscent of Mr.Bakers' Lay-Z-Boy. You were back in the living room, in the chair Tim had plopped into the night you came to this hell hole.

Your mind was racing, a quick bout of nostalgic memories overrode the events of the past few minutes. They returned to the situation at hand, you'd just pissed off the currently not so merry band of murder hobos. Thing's were looking like they couldn't get any worse but you knew they were going to somehow get worse.

Your eyes were met with a ridiculous sight as your, blurry from tears, vision cleared up. Life sucked really bad right now but the worst part? Hanging off of Brian's torso was what he'd worn to bed. It was a black t-shirt that had in big bold white letters, ' _I'M NOT GAY BUT 20$ IS 20$'_ Below the horrible text was the image of a 3D character doing a dab. Below the figure in a more stylized font it read _'FORTNITE'._ That completely distracted you from the fact that a big, strong, murderer was towering before you in his boxers.

_"FORTNITE?! OH MY GOD!"_ You screamed out a laugh that your throat protested to, but you couldn't help it. Everything sucked and you didn't know if this made your situation better or worse. Did he steal the shirt off a target or from Target? Did he legitimately buy it for himself? Does he play Fortnite? 

_"Shut that fuckin' bitch up, Brian!"_ Tim called from the hallway, he sounded less livid with a dose of reason being given to him by the usually manic Toby. He still sounded _pissed,_ but there was less of a note in his voice that screamed he wanted your insides on the outside. 

" _What the fuck are you wearing?!"_ You were even more traumatized, coming down from a manic breakdown, but you couldn't stop laughing.

"What thuh-the fuck is sshuh-she talking about?" Toby called a few more thumps resounding through the walls of their home. What was going on over there?

"She's just manic." Brian called over his shoulder before snapping his head to you, staring you down. "She'll calm down and regret all of this in a few minutes."

You felt small under his gaze, there was a glistening streak of red down his cheek. You surprisingly didn't regret your actions, completely. You felt prideful that you somewhat stood your ground against him. You gave him a real piece of your mind, before he put you in your place, literally. You were still terrified of him but you felt like you said what needed to be said. You let him know you wouldn't be tamed so easily.

You were also pretty mad that Goober was probably sleeping on his bed.

"Me manic?" You tilted your head up to fully meet his gaze. You put an arm on each armrest, raising your brows with a wavering smug smile _, "Never."_

"(Y/n)," Brian coldly spoke, you involuntarily clutched the arm rests, "Don't move." Brian's tone held a threat but he didn't deliver it with a smile. He was testing you. You both knew he was angry with you, him being genuinely angry with you terrified you. If you disobeyed him you'd be in big trouble but if you obeyed him you'd be obeying his earlier wishes, you'd be admitting you had no control.

As Brian turned, loud footsteps stomped about in the hallway.

_**Thud!**_

The loud sound cracked through the air as the walls shook. What the hell were they doing in there? Brian padded into the hall. You contemplated a moment. You didn't want broken legs but you also had your ego. You were like Tim in that way, you hated when your ego was dragged through the mud. You shook your head, you weren't going to compare yourself with him. That'd be too much humanization of his character and you were not about to do that.

He said ' _don't move_ ', at a glance it'd be him telling you not to run. Thing is, you couldn't with your still bound ankles. He was telling you not to move a single muscle. You could play dumb but that'd probably get you hurt.

Brian wouldn't kill you though. He saved you from getting pounced on by Tim. He cared about your health because if you died, they were fucked. You concluded he was smart enough not to hurt you in any sort of way that could cause internal bleeding or infection. As well as the obvious not shooting you in the head. At most he'd rough you up, which would suck but you'd be alive with your ego still intact.

You peeled your hands from the armrests, heart thudding nervously in your chest as you did so. Your reasoning was sound but you'd bet on him back at the cabin that night and all it got you was a dead Alexis. That was then, this is now. You rested your hands on your lap, one over the other. You couldn't exactly hold your head up high as your neck was horribly aching. You were glad it didn't break from the swinging around and general abuse. Your neck was still heavily bruised in the form of a misshapen hand print from before. 

Your scalp was still reeling from the past minutes events, pulsing with waves of hot pain. You were sure Brian had pulled a few (h/l) (h/c) strands from your pretty little head. You were somewhat sure of the fact that you had the makings of a black eye around your left eye socket. You wondered if you looked as cool and bad ass as a character in some action movie. Bloody and bruised, but not broken. Somehow, their hair was still styled and their eyelashes full. Characters in movies had makeup and special effects though. You were the genuine thing, the real crazy bitch fighting for her life. A real life final girl that would put Laurie Strode's entire career to shame. 

You thought it was two pairs of footsteps approaching from the hallway. Your gut clenched at the incoming danger, but you metaphorically stood your ground, hands resting on your lap. One clutching the other which was balled into a tight fist.

Brian entered first, followed closely behind by Toby. Toby had been in such a good mood earlier that morning and you'd soured it. Good. He didn't deserve to be happy. They both had a bundle of rope. The ropes were frayed all over, some areas stained a deep brown. Blood. There wasn't a moment you forgot what they were with these reminders all around you. They weren't human. Maybe they were at some point, but not anymore.

Brian looked down at the hands clutched together in your lap. His expression unreadable once more, you hated that little quirk of his. Being so hard to read. You couldn't tell if he was angry at your disobedience or impressed at your grit. Toby regarded you with one akin to Brian's but he was a lot more readable than his counterpart. The edges of Toby's mouth were turned to a frown, his eyebrows ever so slightly slanted downwards. A few bruises littered his face, Tim must have hurt him in their struggle, his normally messy hair messier than you had ever seen it. His free hand was flexing it's fingers wildly while he couldn't seem to stop knocking his head and shoulder together rhythmically. He was upset. 

You could get that, what you said to Tim was an insult to every single one of them. You were just pleasantly surprised that Toby hadn't gone feral on you like Tim had. In fact, Toby reasoning with the older man seemed out of character for him. He seemed to be a lot less composed than his counterparts, not as abrasive as Tim, but he didn't seem the type to know how to keep calm. He was doing well outwardly, holding it together, but you could only imagine what was racing though his mind as he looked at you. 

"Thanks for moving your hands, (Y/n)."

The fact that Brian verbally acknowledged your disobedience sent a chill down your spine. You could have really just fucked up. The two men approached, not too slow, but not too eagerly either. You were just a task that had to be dealt with. Brian, still wearing the worst shirt you'd ever seen knelt down at the foot of the armchair. Resting his left forearm on one of the armrests, you could see the rope clutched between his fingers. It was dirtier up close. 

Brian smiled, the tooth gap you hated so much showing itself. That wasn't good. "Now it's easier for me to tie them up." He sounded like he was talking to a child, softly condescending. Did he know that you would do that? Your little 'conversation' you'd had before your shower replayed in your mind. He'd told you he knew you well but never clarified how well. You had no idea how long they'd been watching you. 

You attempted to slide you hands apart but Brian was too fast. One hand had captured both of your wrists in a vice-like grip. You growled and threw yourself forward. You were planning on biting his hand, being just a little upset that he held your feet off the ground by your hair. 

You were so focused on Brian that you hadn't noticed Toby slip behind the chair. A rope fell into your view as you moved forward. It was quickly pulled taught at your midsection, forcing your sore back against the chair. Brian's other hand began to expertly tie your wrists together. Any attempts to wriggle your hands free of his grip only gave him an excuse to increase his grip. The knots were snug around your flesh while the thick rope at your midsection held your upper arms and torso in place. Toby was waiting for Brian to finish while he held you down. They were working with one another's strengths and weaknesses too quietly and effectively for your liking.

You were in an internal state of conflict as Brian stood up. As he walked around the arm chair to properly tie your torso to it, you were contemplating on opening your mouth or not. Your thoughts deeply contradicted one another. Some begging you to shut up and take it for survival, that your pride didn't matter. The other half screamed that you shouldn't give up now, you'd come so far. By so far, you meant currently being tied to an armchair. You didn't want to get hurt, out of fear and out of a necessity to have a functioning body in order to escape. 

You'd promised yourself you'd keep fighting though, for Sully. You also had the heavy weight of survivors guilt on your mind from that night at the cabin. Ceasing all struggle would make you feel even shittier about their deaths. You remembered Emile. An innocent bystander hurt by your presence, you'd keep fighting and give them hell. If he was watching, you know he'd be rooting for you and also to call them both cock suckers or something along those lines. You were going to be smart, play your cards right, but not in the form of silence. You were going to be yourself and get the fuck out of here. Even if you got a little fucked up in the process.

You clicked your tongue as Brian passed the rope hand to hand around your torso. Now wasn't the time to ask about The Operator, that'd get you a hand around your wind pipe. Now was a questionable time to open your big mouth but you wanted to make it crystal clear what your intentions were. 

"I'm gonna get out of here ya'know." You did your best to ignore the ropes that were being tightened around your upper body. You knew that talking at a time like this, after you'd deeply offended them wasn't the hottest idea. You were thin fucking ice. But Brian wouldn't kill you. He'd make you suffer but you'd live. You'd been through a hell of a lot worse then a little bit of rope burn and restriction. 

"Are you now?" Brian sounded disinterested as the ropes were pulled taught. You could feel them slightly shifting as he tied probably stupidly intricate knots behind the chair. 

"Sure am." You eyed the bloody rope with a huff. People have died in these bindings. "Hey Brian, you a movie guy?" You didn't wait for an answer, "Ah fuck, I actually don't care." You forced out a laugh, you were scared, but you were also incredibly resilient. The ropes stopped shifting, they were staring down at you. You tilted your head slightly back, looking up with a smile. "You know the final girl always gets out in the end, right? Or have you just forgotten about the whole pickup truck thing." It was hard to tell their expressions when their faces were upside down. 

Wordlessly, the men looked at one another and walked around the armchair. You leaned your head forward to meet their forms. Your neck ached at all the activity. Toby slouched where he stood, still in his pajamas, "Do yuh-you ever shhuh-shut up?" He rolled his shoulders back twice.

"No, I do-" You looked his way, ignoring Brian who stood next to him. Big mistake. 

There was a hand slapped over your mouth, Brian's hand to be exact. You weren't trying to make a show of being unafraid of them, you'd said some things in the moment that were fueled by a manic episode. You were scared of them and they knew it. You let yourself be afraid and you let yourself open your mouth. That's fucking bravery, not mania.

He squeezed your cheeks much like Tim had earlier that morning. His touch wasn't as rough but it applied more force. He still wasn't over the whole throwing him off the back of a moving vehicle thing. You parted your lips and darted your tongue forward, making cringe-worthy contact with his skin. He didn't react the way Tim had. Typical. Huffing, you opened your mouth wider and dragged as much as your tongue as possible against the palm of his hand. You licked him a few more times to no avail, your tongue slipped back behind your teeth with a frown. You don't think he had even blinked the entire time his hand was on you. 

He leaned in close and began, "Mouth shut." Brian articulated every syllable carefully ,"Or I will fucking shoot you." He spoke lowly, without a smile. You felt something cold and hard press firmly into your upper left thigh. One of your brain cells screamed,' _Is that a gun or are you just happy to see me?',_ but you knew he hated your guts and that was definitely a fucking gun.

He wasn't having fun like the other night, he was genuinely angry with you. Your thoughts traveled back to your earlier ideas of him not doing anything too bad as he was too careful.

"I'm serious." Was he though? "I won't let you die," That was reassuring at all, in fact the look in his eyes suggested he wanted to bust your kneecaps, "I've got more experience dealing with grievous injuries than you think. I can rip you apart and put you back together again." His words cut through you, your earlier assumptions were smashed. He was just reaffirming the idea that he was the scariest motherfucker in this house. You shuttered with a shaky breath you let out through your nose. "(Y/n)," You hated that he used your name so much, "Do you understand me?" 

You were shaking, your hands squeezed into fists unable to do anything. He wasn't going to put a rag in your mouth because he was testing you once more. You wouldn't get off scot-free again. You were learning your lessons, casting a few of them aside in stupid acts of bravery. Although right now, you did not want to fucking test Brian. You slowly nodded, meeting his hardened gaze. 

He pulled back, standing to his full height, hand still on your mouth. He smiled, the same fake kind smile he gave you at the diner, "Good girl."

Disgust filled you, mixing into your muddled mess of emotions. He was treating you like a fucking dog again. He was degrading you and you couldn't do shit about it other than act like it didn't bother you. But it did and you let out an involuntary angry huff through your nose. You didn't attempt to lick him again. You didn't want any more comments from him, especially if he was going to treat you like a dog.

The high pitched groan of wood filled the room. The only other sounds being your heart thudding in your chest and your uneven breaths. You didn't break your staring contest as stomping footsteps began their approach. 

"Why'd you have to use _my_ chair to tie that bitch up?" Tim barked behind Brian and Toby. Toby turned to his companion, Brian kept up the creepy eye contact. It was a silent test of your grit. To see if he could make you submit with just a dirty look. 

"Because fu-fuck you that's why." Toby grunted, sounding like he was lecturing the older man. 

"Whatever, kid." Tim huffed, "I'm going outside for a smoke. Keep that bitch in line." You wanted to open your mouth but you didn't want a gaping hole in your leg. 

"Later old ah-ass." Tim didn't respond as he stomped into the kitchen. You heard the door screech as it was pulled open. There was no angry ' _thud'_ of a slamming door. He'd calmed down faster then you'd give him credit for. 

Brain pulled his hand from your face, smiling. They seemed to be in a somewhat better mood with the appearance of their leader who wasn't acting like a feral cat, a weight seeming to lift off of both of their shoulders. The smile was one of a childhood bully before sticking gum in your hair. Brain wiped his saliva soaked palm on your shirt a few times. You bit your tongue, literally. 

Brian finally looked away from you and turned towards the couch. It felt like a weight had been removed from your chest as well. You relaxed your shoulders as best you could in your firm bindings. Toby still stood at the foot of the chair, he regarded you with pinched lips. He didn't have Brian's tact in not looking as pissed off at you. He followed Brian to the couch, who'd already sat himself down. Toby threw himself down on the opposite side of the couch, sinking into the seat with a sigh. 

As angry as they were with your words, they looked tired even though it was probably ten in the morning. You supposed what you'd just caused was an argument. Tim wanting to kill you and the other two didn't want their asses handed to them on a silver platter by some supernatural being. They were all rough around the edges, Tim and Toby butting heads near constantly, but those petty bouts of bickering didn't feel real. You supposed that they didn't have arguments like this often. They didn't have 'guests' like you often.

You were crying, though not very hard. Top lip sucked into your mouth to keep yourself quiet and grounded. Tears lazily slipped down your cheeks every handful of seconds. This fucking sucked. 

Time slowly crawled by, your eyes had fallen to your lap. Your scalp dully pounded, the area around your left eye felt like it was pulsating. 

You don't know how much time passed when Toby cracked, the boy couldn't seem to stand silence, "Why do you kuh-keep fighting, huh?" He sounded genuinely curious, not intending to come off as completely degrading you. It still did. It just reminded you that you were like a fly to be swatted to them, a thing to be broken.

You slowly turned your head the brunettes way, slowly blinking at him. You waited for Brian's approval. You'd be a smart ass when you were a bit more sure you wouldn't get shot.

Your eyes flicked to Brian a moment, he huffed, nodding. You wished he would have given you a verbal confirmation, you'd feel safer that way. They weren't here to make you feel safe though, they were here to keep you alive until some stick figure decided your fate.

"Spite." You rasped out the word, mouth dry.

"And?" Toby urged you to continue, his eyebrows shooting up. 

The manic episode got you in deep shit but it was cathartic. You felt like you had a fair chance to air out your grievances. You felt terrible but the fact that for a few moments, you got to stand up to them, was immensely pleasurable. You hated their guts but you'd either be dead or be a hermit in a few weeks, so you were in a sharing mood. 

"Every time I see you," You forced yourself to meet with Toby's eyes, "I see the silhouette of Jen's dead body, I feel her body slumping onto my lap as I pulled _your_ fucking hatchet out of her back. You can't just kill somebody I loved once," You deadpanned the information, not caring about the emotional ammunition this gave them, "And just expect me to be happy about being around you." You had to look away from him and to your lap, it was true, you couldn't bear to look at him. More so when he donned his goggles. "And you," You looked up to Brian, "I wasn't close to Alexis," You wondered if he knew her name when he killed her, "But fuck, you didn't have to shoot both of her tits off. You didn't have to splatter her guts all over my face." A bitter laugh resounded from you, your brows knit together, feeling tears dribbling down your cheeks. 

Your words were sour on your tongue. You told yourself you were somewhat safe for now, as long as you didn't start yelling about **him** or blindly insulting them, you'd be okay.

"I only was really close to Jen. Hadn't seen her in years, broke up on a bad note," You vaguely summarized, "Still sucks to have someone you once loved die in front of you." You were oversharing details about her that you'd never thought you would say aloud. You were just so fucking emotionally exhausted and tired of constantly fighting and being afraid. You'd regret it, but you were going to treat them like they were your therapists. "Everyone else I either completely hated or didn't really know," You pushed away the idea of reminiscing about them, "All of them were kind of selfish assholes." You huffed, letting your eyes wander about the room at you spoke. "It's guilt really. If I don't fight for the dead, if I give in, they died for nothing. I couldn't live with myself if I did." Your voice cracked as you confessed, it felt good but the rational part of your brain told you to shut up. You couldn't, speaking like this was cathartic. You were quite surprised they were letting you speak for this long without being interrupted, and you couldn't bear to look at them as you spoke.

"Ya'know," You huffed, picking at dirt under your nails the best you could with your restraints, "You guys think I'm so scared of you, but thing is you're not the first motherfuckers to act like this to me. Sure, no one's ever tied me to a chair and pulled a gun on me, but still. I dealt with Dan tormenting me from six to sixteen, or something like that." You flatly sighed, thinking to the brunette bastard that unknowingly prepared you for the worst, "I'm used to someone I can't beat coming after my fine ass." You hollowly complimented yourself, self love is important even when you know you look like shit. "I think I got a bit of a tolerance for men who think they're hot shit, with a penchant for wanting to beat me to a pulp." The jab was a weak one but it was one nonetheless. It felt good to get even a pathetic one in as your poured your heart out to the men you hated so fucking much.

With a sigh in between subjects, you began to wrap up your monologue, "Emile was a good kid," You didn't want to look at the two men who contributed to his murder, "A real edge lord sometimes but a sweet kid. Did you really kill him because what happened?" You didn't add an angry or accusatory note to your words, you wanted to hear confirmation from Brian. You also didn't want him getting angry at you for bringing up his pathetic defeat.

"Does it matter that much to you? That you know why an acquaintance of your died?" Brian sounded like genuine therapist. His voice and delivery wasn't soft and caring but the questions were something a therapist would ask. 

"I want to know why all of them died. Emile too." Your chapped lips fell into a frown. You'd never been given an answer through the entire ordeal; why? Why had they even come to the cabin that night?

He dodged the soft demand with a huff, "I don't think I want to tell you right now." Brian flatly denied you. 

You got that, you kinda spat in his face earlier and sent the household into strife. "Do you wanna talk about your feelings then, Brian?" You joked insincerely. Popping his name at the end of the question, it didn't hit as hard as when he used your name, you weren't intimidating tied to a chair with tears running down your face.

"Yeah Buh-Brian," Toby chimed in, falsely considering the proposition, "You wanna talk abuh-about your feelings too?" It was a purposeful jab at your monologue, you deserved it for your stupidity. It didn't matter, you felt an emotional weight lifted off your chest from actually being able to talk about your feelings.

You let your eyes lazily drift over to Brian, "No." He shot the idea down with a smirk. Your heartfelt confession was a joke to him. Asshole.

"God." You croaked, not appreciating the mild ribbing. "I hate you both so much." Your words were a quiet sentiment but they were true. 

"And I think yuh-you're my fuuh-favorite target we've had in a wu-while." Toby chirped, you couldn't tell if his words and smile were sarcastic or not.

"Am I supposed to think that's a good thing?" You played along anyway. If it was true, him enjoying toying with you that much was disgusting, but it meant he somewhat enjoyed you. Even if said enjoyment was shallow and sadistic. It made your skin crawl.

"I think he'd be disappointed if you did." Brian interjected, speaking for his companion. Looking his way with a gaze that was alien to you, warmth. You wondered if his smile at the verbal observation of the boy was genuine. 

"He's ruh-right." Toby chuckled into a gloved hand, looking towards Brian.

You didn't speak. You were so fucking emotionally exhausted. By some miracle they left you alone and began to chatter back and forth. You didn't exactly feel at peace but screaming out obscenities, crying, and getting to talk about your feelings made you feel less like a scrappy gutter rat. More human. You needed this. You could have done without being dangling from a man's fist or being tied to a chair but you needed an emotional reprieve. 

You felt okay as you possibly could for being a murderer with a dual body count. For your only company being your murder happy captors. For being traumatized. You took a deep breath and settled as much as you could into the chair.


	21. 20 - The Calm Before

You let your surroundings slip away behind your eyelids. You didn't want to see them or their murder bachelor pad. Drowsiness hung loosely on your brain but you couldn't exactly sleep after the mornings events, adrenaline and throbbing pain pulsing through your body. Something about almost getting beaten to death by a bear of a man, is that it deeply rattles you. Were you more scared of Brian? Yes. But Tim actually lost control and almost killed you. Brain was cold and calculating while Tim was like a feral chihuahua. 

Brian getting mad at you would result in multiple holes in your body to be roughly sewn back together until you learned your lesson. Tim getting mad like that would see you dead and buried. Toby was just kind of there to be an asshole, the most tolerable asshole, but still fucking unbearable. 

You wanted to pretend like they weren't within proximity. Like you were tied to Tim's armchair of your own volition. You just wanted to sort your own shit out, your thoughts and feelings were a jumbled mess. How could they not be? You could never see your friends or family again. You'd never go to Hot and Crusty's again (if it was even open after what happened to Emile), you'd never sleep in your way too hard bed again. Suddenly being uprooted and replanted in the alien soil that had been the past few days of your life left you reeling. 

A little time to tune out the men going about their day, like nothing was severely wrong with having a girl tied up in their living room, was just what you needed. You were quite proud of yourself and how well you'd been able to tune out your surroundings. The blackness your eyelids provided was quite helpful, your thoughts overpowering the sounds around you, though your body ached and throbbed. You didn't think you could tune that out.

"BITCH!" The shout had you eyes snapping open, your body jolting in surprise. You didn't move too much due to your restrains, your wrists straining against them uselessly. 

Tim stood in the doorway to the kitchen, still in his pajamas. You didn't have any way to keep track of time as there was no window in the living room, so you couldn't tell if it was still morning. Either way, he looked extremely proud of himself for pulling you from your attempt at sorting yourself out.

He chuckled to himself, pushing himself off the doorway, "Good to know that you respond to bitch." His head followed you as he walked into the living room only to turn into the hallway. You scowled at him, unsure if talking was still okay. You didn't quite appreciate their dehumanizing comments but you didn't want to be dead. 

You heard the faint click of a door shutting. You were glad he was out of sight, but he unfortunately wasn't out of mind. Your mind was like dirty water, over time the dirt would stop swimming about making the water look muddy. It'd settle down in a thick and slimy layer of mud, sorted mostly from the water. It was ugly but it was somewhat uniform and put together. Your thoughts were in the process of finally starting to settle when Tim stomped his stupid fucking boots into your mind water and sent brain dirt everywhere. 

Huffing, glaring at the entrance of the hallway, a clinking sound caught your attention. Blinking, your gaze flickered over to the couch. Toby was nowhere in sight. Brian sat in the middle of the couch, pen in hand, a spiral-bound notebook rested on the coffee table. He was still wearing his horrible t-shirt of unknown origin, but at least he was wearing pants now. He was scary but his shirt and earlier lack of pants was one of the few reasons you had the balls to stand up to him. The thing that really caught your attention was your (f/c) phone case that you would know anywhere.

The phone lay next to the notebook. Luckily enough, you were able to see the screen. It was your lock screen. A single finger carefully dialed a set of numbers and the little check mark. The key pad shook side to side, signifying the password was wrong. He was trying to get into your phone. 

You looked to the notebook, there were multiple series of numbers written uniformly in a blue ink. At first you thought they meant nothing, then you saw a set of numbers that had a slash through them. It was your birthday. The set of numbers under it were you parents respective birthdays. You took in a sharp inhale, despite birth dates being easier information to access due to the internet, it was still chilling that he knew the dates. With every encounter with Brian, he just showed you that he knew much more intricate details about you than you thought possible. 

Although, what would breaking into your phone provide him with? If he supposedly knew so much about you then your phone would be pretty useless. Unless he wanted to see embarrassing photos and old text conversations. Then it hit you.

You texts with Sully. You'd stopped referring to the men as 'daddies' once you began to figure out who they all were. Something about knowing your life was in danger made you in less of a mood to joke about who you were attracted to. However, if Brian scrolled through your texts with Sully for more than a few minutes he'd find out the truth. 

Brian knew a lot but you'd only called him daddy over text or in Sully's car. If you ever did in public it was when you were both checking him out from across the diner. Out of earshot. He couldn't possibly know. 

Your stomach felt like it was caving in. If Brian cracked into your phone he'd know that you thought that he has ' _big dick energy'._ He'd know that you'd called Toby ' _cute but in a rat kind of way!'._ He'd know that you thought Tim had a ' _weird vibe but he's hot so, like, ya'know.'_ Your life was already over but fuck, would it even be more over if he got into that phone.

You had a temporary advantage though. Brian seemed to be overthinking your password. Long lists of numbers showing that he thought you'd let sentimental moments be the key to your phone. He was severely over estimating you. Your password wasn't connected to something that deep and meaningful. Your password was childish. You curled your lips into a smile, cheeks puffing out while you held in a laugh. 

Your password was ' _8-0-0-8'_ or the series of numbers you punch into your calculator in middle school and show your friend. Then you both crack up and the teacher comes over and yells at you. Your password was the numerical equivalent of the word ' _boob'._

 _"_ (Y/n)." Brian called your name after inputting another incorrect password. Wasn't he supposed to be the smart one? 

He didn't immediately speak again, he was giving you permission to talk. You couldn't help but let a few shaky amused breaths escape your nose,"Yeah." You completely failed in deadpanning. Although you didn't want him to get into your phone, you couldn't wait to see the look on his face when he found out your password was 'boob'.

There was a soft note, muffled by the walls. It was the unmistakably sound of an acoustic guitar. It was like series of idle notes with no cord or melody. You never took any of them for the musical type. You didn't really want to humanize them in your head so you never actually considered what they might like to do. Humans had interests and hobbies, they weren't human. In your head, all they cared about was gore and impressing you with how bad of people they could be. They're monsters with no depth. 

Brian's voice shooed the thoughts away, "When is Goober's birthday?" He wanted the date for another potential number combination. He was really getting into this wasn't he? 

"I don't know." You spoke with a smile, it was true. Everything sucked mad dick and you were terrified of Brian but you couldn't fucking believe that he was struggling so much. Wasn't he supposed to know you inside and out? 

He looked up from the notebook he was so enthralled with and to you, eyebrows raised. With the skeptical tone, he tutted, "You don't know his birthday?"

"No." You answered earnestly, still smiling. God, he was so fucking stupid. "I didn't do his adoption papers. Never really looked at 'em. So I dunno." You shrugged as much as your bindings would allow. The conversation felt strangely normal which sickened you. You had the moral compass to know how fucked up it was to converse so casually with a murderer who was trying to hack into your phone, but you also knew you were a human. Humans need social stimuli even if the only people for miles to provide it sucked. You'd talk to them for yourself, to ground yourself in reality, to remind yourself of how brave you are.

He stared at you a moment, the only sound being the idle strumming in the other room. "What day was it when you got him?" He tapped the pen quietly on the notebook as he spoke.

A few huffy laughs passed your lips,"Don't remember." You answered truthfully. He didn't seem all too happy with the smile playing on your lips. He stopped tapping the pen,"I was kinda delirious and traumatized that day, didn't even know what hospital I was in. Being in a hospital with a busted ass and mental scarring does that to ya." You spoke the truth out with a fake note of joy, like you were reminiscing of the good ole days.

Brian blinked at you and a small smile spread on his cheeks. "I wonder what got you in such a situation." His usual flat way of address held the inkling of familiar amusement. Like you were old friends. Instead, you were both long standing predator and prey. He was being slightly expressive, and you thought with a jolt it may be genuine. Maybe the earlier scene you caused, your moxie, gave him a shred of respect for you. You appreciated it, kind of. You thought that maybe the black eye and throbbing spine was worth some respect.

A soft padding brought both of your eyes to the hallway. Butt in the air, doing a literal downward dog while yawning, was Goober, his fluffy tail swaying lazily.

You couldn't help but gasp obnoxiously with a silly grin, "Goob-baby!" If Brian knew as much as he said he did, then you didn't really give a shit about using the stupid nickname in front of him. You weren't ashamed of being fun and cool anyway.

Goobers eyes shone with recognition as he bolted your way, tail wildly swinging. For a moment your situation fell away. It was just you and the excited pup running towards you. He threw himself up into the chair. He was heavy, his large paws digging into your thighs. You let out a breath of discomfort but it was a welcome discomfort. Your position was a bit awkward for him to lay himself down on, as your wrists were bound and had to be sitting on your lap at all times. He didn't seem to mind though as he plopped his soft and fuzzy body down. Practically draping himself across the armrests and your lap. 

His belly rested over your hands, you smiled wide with an elated giggle as you spun strands of his soft fur between your fingers the best you could.

You spoke in the telltale tone that every human on the planet took on when talking to an animal, "Hewwo widdle baybe! Are you a handsome man, huh?" You tilted your aching neck at the dog who turned his head towards you, love shining in his eyes. Dopamine exploded in your brain, it felt good to be loved. You deserved it.

Goober dumbly stared at you, head tilted and ears perked up, waiting for confirmation. _"Yes you are!"_ Goober's eyes lit up at the words, his tail going absolutely bonkers. 

You'd completely forgotten about Brian in the moment. You shouldn't have looked up to him but you felt the need to rub it in. Goober _did_ love you more. You regarded Brian with a smug smile and mouthed _, 'Fuck you.'_ You couldn't have your little angel hearing such vulgar words! 

Brian actually reacted to your actions. He looked at you with playful doubt, pushing himself off the couch. You flinched at the action, heart thudding in your chest. Goober's nose on your face, sniffing at your skin soothed you as Brian walked out of the room and into the kitchen.

For a moment you though that he had retreated in shame, finally admitting defeat; that you were the superior dog parent. Then Brian appeared in the doorway with Goober's leash. You never expected to see a six foot something murderer slap the tops of his thighs with a sweet smile and yell, "Come 'ere buddy!" His voice mimicked yours, a warmth that would only be shown to the sweet animal, jumping up lovingly in tone.

Goober whipped his head around, ears shooting up at the leash in Brian's hand. Goober launched himself from your lap. "Hey!" You called helplessly after the retreating dog. As he skidded to a stop at Brian's feet, waiting to be attached to his leash, Brian gave you the same smug smile you'd just given him. 

"That's playing dirty, ya'know?" You huffed at the man who was clicking the leash onto _your_ dog's collar. 

"Since when have I ever not played dirty?" He retorted with a smile, looking warmly at Goober, tussling the top of his head, his ears flopping with the motion. Your banter was stomach churning, it was too normal. A petty rivalry forming for your dog's love was too normal for your circumstances. Too normal for a monster like him.

"Tim!" Brian called out while disappearing from the doorway and into the kitchen, "I'm going to walk _my_ dog! Toby's out, watch her." You could hear the front door groan as it was opened. 

You heard an obnoxious 'uggggghhh' from the other room. The plucking of somewhat off-key strings stopping. Shuffling, followed by the opening of a door inside the hall, was heard before Tim entered the room. 

He regarded you with an annoyed scowl, crossing his big arms over his grossly bright tie-dye shirt. 

"If you're unsure you can hold yourself back, I can keep watch." Brian offered, out of sight. They had such an oddly wholesome dynamic, always caring about each others limits. It just made them seem more like humans. Again, you hated it. 

"I can gag her, it's fine." Tim leaned on the doorway leading to the kitchen, crossing his legs lazily.

"Are you _absolutely_ sure?" Brian sounded skeptical, you could almost see his eyebrows raised and eyes concerned in your mind's eye.

"Yes!" Tim urged, sounding surprisingly unannoyed at the mild babying. "I'll gag her the _second_ she starts pissin' me off." He uncrossed his arms, jutting a thumb your way. One of your many talents was pissing Tim off. You wondered how long you'd last until there was a rag in your mouth. You'd give yourself less than five minutes. 

"Alright," Brian still sounded unsure, "I'll be back in a while." He informed, you could hear the door slowly shutting. "No murdering (Y/n) while I'm out!" Brian called out before the door squeaked shut. 

Tim started at the door a moment before snapping his head your way. "Hey, bitch." He began what was most likely going to be a short lived conversation. 

"Chihuahua." You recalled how much that name grated on him. Did he show you that he had such a lack of control over his anger towards you that he'd fuck himself and his companions over? Yes. Was that going to stop you from insulting him? No. Were you still scared? Hell the fuck yes. 

Tim lunged forward without actually stepping toward you. You gasped and jumped in your restraints on reaction. He hadn't even moved from his spot yet, he was just messing with you. His booming laughter filled the room, how you hated seeing that man happy. However, he seemed to actually have a lid on himself, not immediately insulting you or bashing your brains in. Perhaps his time smoking or idly playing what you assumed was the guitar in his room let him reflect on his actions.

He began his actual advance towards you. You tensed, what if you were wrong? He seemed to have very little brain capacity for constructive thoughts. You definitely felt very unsafe already, but your lack of faith in Tim made you feel like you were on your tiptoes, leaning forward on a cliff's edge. 

Out of blind panic or a need to feel strangely regular, you blurted out,"I thought you didn't listen to music." If you could steer the conversation away from how much he hated your guts, there was a slim chance that you wouldn't have the worst time possible.

Tim lowered himself to his knees once he was beside the armchair. He rested his elbows on the right armrest, leaning his torso over the plush barrier. Too close for comfort, like always. His eyes looking up at you teasingly, a warning in them. You couldn't exactly scoot away, all you could do was slightly move your head away in a small act of disgust and curl your lips into a frown.

Smiling at your discomfort and inability to escape, Tim began,"You really believed everything I told you, huh?" He tilted his head dumbly, dark hair shifting across his forehead, some of the longer hairs brushing his bushy sideburns. 

You frown deepened, slowly blinking. Tim's betrayal had only been a few days ago, but it felt like weeks. Everything that had happened had pushed the emotional damage to the back burner of your mind. Tim dragged it the forefront with a casual smile. 

You scowled at him, you weren't going to verbally acknowledge how much that fucked you up,"You were playing music. That counts as listening to music, ya'know?" Your statement could be read as you admitting that you were fooled and he really did listen to music or that his definition of not listening to music was wrong. Playing music meant that you were listening to it, unless you were deaf, which Tim unfortunately wasn't.

"No it doesn't." He argued with a playful tone. He wasn't offended by your words at all, you were alone together and you were tied to a chair. He'd calmed down and had time to reflect. He actually had a brain after all, he learned from his mistake and wouldn't let you get under his skin as easily.

"Yes it does." You felt like you were arguing with Jen over something stupid. You'd both construct petty half-baked arguments before the conversation quickly devolved into 'yes' and 'no' being thrown back and forth. You pushed the memories away. Jen's dead, and you hadn't truly loved her in a long time. Tim and your relationship, if you could even call it that, wasn't as complex. There wasn't the bittersweet history and the years apart. It wasn't fair to the rotting corpse of your ex-best-friend to compare soft and fuzzy memories of her to him.

Tim let out a, "Tch," Rolling his eyes,"Whatever."

Hate and disgust churned in your gut but you just wanted to talk, to idly pass the time. To gather more tidbits of helpful information. "How long have you been playing?" You forced the non-insult passed your lips with a grimace.

"I don't have to answer to you, bitch." Tim's words were abrasive but he looked smug. He really liked calling you that. You preferred the derogatory nickname over him calling you by your name. Being called by your name by Brian so often made it feel like he really did know you, not as a captor but as an acquaintance. It was a disgusting facade of normalcy. 

"Can you sing?" You huffed out another question. Trying to break down his walls with a barrage of innocent questions. Hoping he'd crack and feed you more information about the big bad stick figure.

"None of your business." He retorted, clicking his tongue.

"Hm," A small smile played on your lips, he was too smug for your liking, "I'm just going to assume that your singing voice sucks then." You challenged with an uneasy smirk.

"I'm not gonna fall for that shit." Tim huffed with a small laugh at your attempt, bringing a hand to rest on his face lazily.

"Alright, alright." You sounded like you were being jokingly ribbed by a friend, it felt disgustingly normal. You both spoke in playful tones, with smiles but you both knew you hated each other. "I'm still going to assume it's bad though." You laughed.

Your conversation felt completely ironic, like you were both doing a bit about normalcy. The conversation was a poor excuse for banter. It felt like holding your foot over a bear trap trigger, ghosting the sole of your shoe over it. Wondering if it'd snap shut, sinking its jagged teeth into your flesh and snapping your bones like twigs.

A lull fell over the conversation as Tim decided to just creepily stare at you. Eyes wide, blinking as little as possible, his dark eyes bored into yours. 

"Can you like," You clicked your tongue, trying not to sound as unnerved as you truly were,"Not stare at me?" You didn't look away from his eyes, staring right back. You weren't an Olympic level champion at staring though. His gaze was far more intense than yours.

Suddenly, there was a hand under your chin. A thumb and pointer finger wrapping around your chin and dragging your head as far forward as your bindings would allow. You snarled at him as he inched closer to you with an easy smile.

"But you look so nice." He cooed out, his smokey smelling breath wafting against your face, a smirk playing on his lips. His face inches from yours.

You didn't want to spit on him but you wanted to get him to fuck off. "Oh? With my black eye and ratty hair?" You let out a bitter laugh. You didn't think that you were ugly but Tim was a man. Men often think that women are ugly if anything is even slightly out of line with societal expectations. You hoped he was of those men.

You were hoping he'd take the bait and go back to insulting you. That's what you were used to from him and you didn't like the creepy change. 

"You'll always be a cutie to me." He wistfully sighed, a filthy mockery of sweet nothings from a tender lover. It clicked with you that he understood social cues, he just ignored them because it made you uncomfortable, he knew just how to push your buttons back. The familiarity in his voice and his filthy hand on your face made your stomach churn violently.

You blew out an angry puff of air from your nostrils, trying to ignore the fingers digging into your skin. _"Blow me."_ You deflected with the crude request. Wasn't it usually the sweet woman pouring her heart out to some jerk who responds with a request 'to smash' along with a dick pic? Not the other way around. 

Tim frowned, there it was, the anger. Your heart thundered in your chest but you smiled. You got him. Two can play at that game.

"Hope you're ready for my sock in your mouth." Tim's frown quickly faded into a smile again. He knew he had absolute power over you. The feat of restraint and sudden anger management was jarring. He still hated you, that was clear but he wasn't about to strike you because he knew it would put him and his comrades in danger. 

The loud sound of the door swinging open filled both of your ears, your eyes tearing away from the intensity in Tim's face. "I'm hah-hoooooooooome!" Toby shouted excitedly into the house. The door creaked closed, footsteps sounding from the unseen kitchen before Toby swung himself into the room.

A toothy grin on his face, the smile accentuating the length of his gruesome gash, his bruises from his scuffle with Tim gone. He had the remnants of twigs and leaves in his curly hair. He'd changed into blue jeans and the denim over his knees was caked in dirt. As were the tips of his converse. Which reminded you that he'd used your body wash and hair care products, only to have them go to waste by getting himself filthy. Annoyance filled you as you wondered idly; what the hell did he do out there?

"Ha-heeey (Y/n)!" Toby padded into the room, not caring about the dirt that he tracked onto the carpet. He did the familiar wave of curling his fingers into his palm, one by one. 

"Kid." Tim turned towards the boy, finally releasing your chin. You reeled your head back as Tim pulled away from the chair, standing. "Take over watching her, yeah?" He put his hands on his back, it loudly popped as he leaned back with a groan. Though it was gross, it wasn't unexpected of him. It was kind of a very dad thing to do. Whenever he called Toby 'kid' he sounded more like a tired father than a murder happy bastard. It didn't help his case when he was kinda rocking a dad bod.

"Sssssh-she too much for you, oh-old man?" Toby snickered as Tim made his way toward the hall.

Tim stopped at the entrance of the hall, staring at the younger man, "Shut up." He grunted abrasively, "You're gonna have to feed her by the way," He pointed at the younger man, "Don't poison her with your cooking." 

Toby stopped in the middle of the living room, "I'm just gonna-nah heat ssssuh-something up in the microwave." He lazily swung his body back in the direction of the kitchen, the sound of his shoulders popping rhythmically following him.

As Toby reentered the kitchen Tim called out, "Just don't put any metal in the microwave again." 

There were soft scraping sounds and the clinks of what you believed to be porcelain, "Are ca-cans metal?" 

_"Oh my god."_ You whispered to yourself, wide eyes focused on the doorway to the kitchen. Toby's shadow moving about. He was going to blow up the cabin somehow.

Tim just chuckled at your bewilderment, "Good luck." With that he entered the hallway with a smile. He cared more about your torment than the microwave getting a bit fucked up. You were alone with Toby as you heard the shutting of Tim's bedroom door.

You were suddenly very afraid when you heard the telltale sound of a microwave heating something. It wasn't long until Toby was walking back into the room, holding a blue bowl that billowed steam in his gloved hands. "How do you fuh-feel about spaghettios?" Toby asked as he approached.

"They're fine." You shrugged in your restraints. You weren't going to bite the hand that was about to feed you, yet. 

Toby shifted the bowl in his hands, holding the bottom of it in one hand. He slung himself onto the right armrest, sitting on it. He leaned into the cushion of the chair with a content sigh. He set the bowl on his lap, you got a glimpse at what sat in bowl. It was a bright red, thin soup with specs of circular yellow noodles. He was close but at least he wasn't touching you. 

One hand steadied the bowl in his lap, the other suddenly slung itself behind your head and around your left shoulder. You shuddered at the sudden unwelcome touch with a cringe. It wasn't exactly a good feeling, a killers arm hair brushing against the back of your neck. You couldn't exactly lean away. With the arm around you, his side now brushed up against your right arm. 

"Do you mind?" You tried to keep the venom from your voice. You didn't want to piss him off too bad and go without eating but you weren't going to take the unwelcome touch laying down.

"Not at ah-all!" Toby chirped, playing dumb to your obvious discomfort. "Op-open wide!" With his free hand he scooped up as much food as the spoon would allow, dripping with red liquid when it broke the surface of the sauce. It made you queasy, reminding you of spilling blood.

You knit your brows, staring up at the grinning boy, "Untie me. I can feed myself." You spoke in the most dignified way you possibly could.

"Yeaaahh," Toby held the dripping spoon above the bowl, its oozing slowly ceasing, "No. I don't wanna-nah get yelled at by Buh-Brian again." Toby informed, so Brian went after him too. "Open up!" He echoed his earlier words with a mischievous smile.

You swallowed your pride for a moment with an angry huff. Whatever, the little idiot might let you in on more info if you just played along. You reluctantly opened your mouth, leaning your head forward as much as your restrictions would allow. It made you feel like you had more control of how the situation was playing out.

The hand that was slung around your left shoulder shot up from its idle position, snatching your chin. "Lemme duh-do it." He sounded a little too excited to be feeding you. He pulled your head back into the cushion. You snarled up at him. They only got worse the more time you spent around them. Slightly more tolerable but still pretty fucking awful.

You kept your mouth open as he released your chin. You eyed the approaching spoon, it was steaming a little too much. Toby shoved the spoon in your mouth, dumping the food that felt more like lava into your mouth before ripping the spoon from your lips. You felt like your tongue and the roof of your mouth were going to melt. With a pained grunt from your throat, you quickly swallowed the heap of burning spaghettios without chewing. It felt like swallowing chunky fire more then it did food.

As it slid down your throat you gasped out a, " _FUCK!"_ You panted, hoping the rushing air would cool your searing tongue, your hands trying fruitlessly to reach your face. " _WHAT THE FUCK?!"_ You shouldn't be yelling at him, he could pour the spaghettios that felt like they were cooked in hell down your shirt if he wanted to. 

"Oh. Is it hah-hot or sssuh-something?" Toby realized aloud, "Hm." He dug the spoon into the soup while you heaved, your entire throat and stomach burning. He popped the spoon into his mouth, tilting his head to the side so nothing would spill from his gash. He considered the lava like food a moment before his Adam's apple bobbed lightly, he swallowed the food completely unphased. "I mean I can't ruh-really feel heat but I th-think you're just being a pussy." He dipped the spoon into the bowl once more.

"You can't feel the _what?"_ You watched as the liquid dripped from the spoon, trying to calm your thudding heart. 

"I can't feel huh-heat!" He sounded almost proud of himself, "Cuh-cold either!" He chirped, smiling shoving the spoon your way. His opposite hand that rested on your chest popped as he rolled his wrist a few times. "Open ssseh-sesame!" He sounded like a child. 

You sucked your lips into your mouth, reeling at the new information. He'd clearly proven to you that he didn't feel pain but not feeling heat? Or the cold? What the fuck! Maybe he had some sort of condition. Either way, the lack of reaction from the hell soup was enough proof for you.

He shoved the spoon in your face, you turned your head to the side, lips still sucked into your mouth. You did this for two reasons; one, it was hot as lava and you were not about to get burned like that again and two, the spoon was just in his mouth. Swapping spit with Toby wan't high on your bucket list. 

"Open uh-up." He giggled at your discomfort as you eyed the spaghettios warily.

You grunted out an, "Mhm-mm." Shaking your head. 

Toby clicked his tongue. "Fun fact! I can't sssuh-sweat!" He barked out the information out of nowhere.

You turned your head towards him, and quizzically began to ask, "Wait, for re-"

The spoon was shoved into your mouth, further this time. The hot metal pushed passed your uvula and the hot spaghettios were dumped directly down your throat. You lurched forward as Toby pulled the spoon away with a mischievous cackle. You coughed and gagged as the heat shot down your throat.

You didn't exactly appreciate the test at your gag reflex which didn't go much as it didn't eject the hot food from your throat. " _What the hell, Toby?"_ You gargled out, head slumping forward. 

"You need to eh-eat!" He defended his actions innocently, not a hint of empathy in tone.

"I also need my insides not melting together!" The heat began to subside, you tried to keep the annoyance out of your voice. "How about we just talk while we wait for that to cool down, yeah?" You hated the suggestion. Your earlier semi-normal conversations with the other men left you feeling strangely regular for your shit circumstances. Toby was also the most loose lipped of all of them. You also didn't want another helping of fire in your mouth.

"Yeah!" Toby blurted out the second you finished talking. That was a lot easier than expected, the kid loved talking.

"What were you doing outside?" You asked the first thing that came to mind. You just kind of accepted his earlier statements about himself. He seemed innocently earnest sometimes. Except the whole, acting like he wasn't a murderer thing. 

"Walking arah-around looking at ssstuh-sticks and leaves 'n sssh-shit." Toby idly recalled, no wonder he has so much of the discussed subject matter in his hair, "Drawing tuh-too." You weren't expecting that, your eyebrows raising involuntarily.

"You draw?" You rolled your head towards him, your neck didn't feel as horrible anymore. Surprising, considering you were dangling by it only hours ago, not to mention the deep bruise in the shape of Brian's fat hand. The area around your left eye still dully pounded. The areas of flesh that had been skinned only days ago was starting to nicely scab over. It still hurt but you were glad you were healing up well. A little too well actually. You'd come to the conclusion that last night Brian had cleaned the skinned areas. He had spoken of his ability to put you back together and there was a suspicious lack of infection from the wounds that had to have been very dirty. It was a violating thought, him touching you without your knowledge. You understood it was purely so you wouldn't die but still.

"Ye-yeah, you sssuh-surprised?" He sounded like he was hoping for you to be surprised, to be impressed with him. 

"Didn't take you for the artistic type." You casually responded thinking back to the picture hanging on the fridge. It must have been his work. You wondered if he pinned whatever work he'd done on the refrigerator as he didn't walk in with it. You didn't really think when you spoke next, "Didn't think any of you'd be good at anything other than murder." You mumbled the words, full of disdain.

"Didn't take you as ssstuh-stupid enough to tuh-tell me about you little girlfriend-end." Toby retorted sharply, a devilish smile creeping onto his lips. You shouldn't have done that, if he was pissed at you he'd be less likely to spill his guts. 

You had to keep him talking. You'd defend your actions as bait. They seemed to enjoy when you were in emotional distress, so why not play it up, he'll be disgustingly happy again and maybe let some valuable information slip. It wasn't like you even needed play it up that much, if at all, you were pretty fucked up about everything.

"We weren't girlfriends." You bitterly corrected, you don't know why but his words cut deep. It'd been over four years since you both had kissed. You'd gotten over her. There was something about one of her dying words being a false declaration of love that shook up past feelings. You felt like you owe it to the corpse of a woman, you felt like you had to love her now. Because she died for you. But you didn't love her and you never would again. That made you feel like a terrible person. 

You took in a shaky breath, "And it's not like my therapist is anywhere to be seen." You wondered how he was doing, your therapist. "You're the only motherfuckers for miles," You refused to call them people,"Gotta talk and get my feelings out somehow or I'll lose my fucking marbles." You confessed without shame. If anyone should be ashamed of themselves it should be him, all of them. You had to force the words passed your grit teeth, _"You're all I got."_

 _"_ We're all each other's got." Toby confessed, regarding you with a gaze free of mockery or malice. _It worked._ "It's been like that as long as I can remember." It was kinda comical how wistfully he looked into the bowl of cooling spaghettios. His lack of tics or stutter was telling. Telling for what though, you didn't know.

"What do you mean?" You softened the hard jabbing edge of your voice. Just a bit, if you laid it on too thick he'd notice and probably punish you. 

"I don't re-remember a lot of ssstuh-stuff," His stutter returned a frown playing at his lips, "Sssin-since before I was seventeen." The hand that rested on your chest idly drummed against the fabric of your sweatshirt. "That's how oh-old Tim sssa-said I was when I joined."

From what clues you'd gathered so far, his 'joining' meant him assimilating into their merry band of murder. Did joining make you forget? You had all of your memories, at least you thought so. Maybe since you haven't officially 'joined' yet you'd keep your memories.

"I was an ah-asshole when I ja-joined too." He regarded you with an easy smile, relaxed. "It's really rough ah-at first, I get it."

You bore your teeth at him, _"I'm not going to fucking join you."_ Your fists curled into themselves as much as they'd allow. You weren't like them, you never would be, they're inhuman monsters, they killed people. _So did you. Twice._ Your brain supplied helpfully _,_ you contemplated a moment if you had room to judge. You quickly concluded you did. They toyed with their 'targets', toyed with you. They made murder a game and you could tell your body count didn't hold a candle to theirs.

"I think you will." Your head snapped to the doorway to the kitchen. Brian stood in the doorway, a happy looking Goober on his leash. Goober was clearly trying to come to you but Brian held the leash taught, wrapped around his large hand, not letting the pup give you love. You didn't hear either of them come in. You expected the stealthiness from Brian at this point but Goober? Impossible. He had to have picked the dog up and sneaked inside cradling him like a giant furry baby.

"Excuse me?" You snapped at the man as a creak echoed through the air. You knew it was Tim, coming to join the conversation. Your disappointment was immeasurable and your day was ruined. Tim idly leaned into the living room from the mouth of the hallway.

"You remind me of Tim before." Brian earnestly answered your question, glancing towards the man who'd just entered the room. He had memories of before. You assumed he meant before **him**. You idly wondered why Toby supposedly had none. 

" _Ex-fucking-cuse me, Brian?"_ Tim snapped his head to the taller man, looking deeply offended.

"It's true. There's a lot of similarities." Brian's eyes flickered over to you, then back to Tim. You didn't get it.

"How?" You chimed in with wide eyes. Tim looked to you, lips pressed into a line.

Brian let out a breathy laugh, leaning in the doorway, "Stubborn." He lulled his head to the side sweetly, regarding Tim with one of the most earnest looks you'd seen from the man. 

"Won't deny it," Tim huffed, crossing his arms, "But that's about it I'd say."

"Not entirely," You leaned your head forward, as if that'd make Brian speak faster,"You were a real smart ass," He gave Tim a smile before his expression switched back to his guarded look of disinterest, "You tried to play it off, the fear. You tried to act cool but she," He jutted his head towards you,"Copes with jokes." He pushed himself off of the doorway with a sigh, "Both of you just wanted to be normal."

They had all seemed intent on hiding this sort of information from you, Toby less so than his companions, but still. This was a little much, way more than you were expecting to learn in your first full twenty-four hours in their humble abode. Maybe Tim and Brian's connection was providing you with the information, if you reminded him of bittersweet memories then you could see why he'd let some information slip. He was comparing you to someone he seemed to deeply care for. It could be read as him starting to care about you due to the affiliation, but it was much more likely he was giving Tim a bit of tough love. Since Tim easily hated you the most. 

You didn't appreciate the truthfulness of his words. Being compared to Tim was an insult. You were different.

Silence hung thick in the air. You mouth agape. You didn't want to believe that there was a _before._ That they'd been human.

Tim let out a, "Tch. Whatever. Hey kid," Tim shuffled further into the room,"I heard that shit you said about being an asshole when you first came." Tim made his way towards you and Toby. If you could stiffen anymore you would. "You were awful," Tim chuckled with a smile, "But nowhere near as bad as this one." He flickered his eyes to you as he made his teasing comment, jerking his chin towards you tersely. 

"I'm glad I'm a real pain in the ass." You hissed at the man. There had to be some kernel of truth to his words as Tim brushed them off. He usually fought every little thing but to have him brush it off was suspicious. It made your guts churn.

Tim shook his head, amused huffs escaping his nose, "Only a little." He held out his hands to Toby, "I can fed her for ya."

"What? Nnnuh-no." Toby gripped your sweatshirt, you didn't like the childish possessiveness to his tone, wishing you could brush off his hand. 

"Well I'm going to keep watch tonight anyway." Tim sighed, playfully acting like he hated the job but you knew he loved annoying the shit out of you. "I can take care of her."

"But I wah-wanna!" Toby whined before slipping his voice into something more playful, his head tilting towards you, his soft hair brushing against your hair softly, along with a twig from outside. "We're buh-buh-bonding."

"Yeah Tim," You played along with Toby with a smile, trying not to cringe from the proximity, "We're bonding." It was sickeningly true. You had to get closer to Toby if you wanted a shot of escape. He was the easiest target. You also just wanted to be a pain.

"Sssuh-see! She luh-likes me more!" Toby barked happily, possessive grip on your clothing loosening.

"That's why _I'm_ taking watch." Brian chimed in from the doorway, Goober had sat himself at his feet.

"Brian you took watch last night, I'll take over tonight." Tim insisted, approaching Toby for the bowl.

_"Tim."_ Brian urged, fists balling.

"Brain." Tim turned on his heels, "I fucked up but I'm going to make it up to you," He looked over his shoulder at you and Toby, "Both of you. _I'm taking watch and that's final."_ His words were firm.

Toby completely released you from his overly affectionate hold, sliding off of the couch wordlessly. He set the still steaming bowl on the coffee table. He began to walk out of the room, looking over his shoulder at you before he left your sight, "Night gu-guys!" You didn't like how you were apart of 'guys'. You weren't a part of their little fucked up family unit.

Brian regarded Tim with a hard gaze before pushing himself from the kitchen doorway, "Goodnight." He grunted as Goober trailed behind him, dragging on the end of the leash, he whined as he passed you by. Poor baby wanted to sleep with his mama and not with the big smelly bastard man.

Then there were two; Tim and you.

You weren't looking forward to having him feed you, what you supposed, was your dinner. He was determined to make it up to his partners, maybe he'd be more bearable. Tim had been turned towards the hallway the entire time his companions made their respective exits, back turned to you.

"Hey pea-brain." You snidely tested him.

Tim whipped around, looking only mildly irked but more amused than anything, "Yes, _cutie."_ You weren't a fan of the newfound nickname for you. You hated when he called you buddy but cutie was ten times worse. You thought you preferred 'bitch' over any of them.

"I have to piss." You deadpanned as best you could, trying to shrug off the name. If you reacted strongly it'd just egg him on. "Take me to the bathroom before I pee on your chair."

"Yeah, yeah." Tim brushed you off with a smile, like you'd just ribbed him jokingly. He slipped behind the chair anyway. Your bindings shifted as he untied them. He was much slower than Brian with the knots but still pretty fast. The bindings fell slack on your lap, you pushed them up with your bound forearms and ducked under them. Standing, your legs thanked you as you stretched them out with a groan.

"Come on." Tim smacked a hand on your shoulder, ushering you from the living room and into the hallway. You both quickly reached the bathroom, he leaned into the room to flick on the light before pulling out of the door frame. "Don't take too long." He grunted as you shuffled into the bathroom.

"I'm going to be awhile. Got a lot'a pee stored, ya'know?" You chuckled as Tim shut the door behind you. You were going to be awhile but not because of urine. 

"Whatever." Tim grunted behind the wood. 

You were still going to pee but you had ulterior motives, besides wanting to stretch your sore muscles. Pulling your pants down wasn't that hard with tied wrists, you'd think it would be but it wasn't. Sitting on the toilet, getting to work but not peeing. 

You dug the plastic oval of a clown head from your sweatpants pocket. Your fingers trembled as you clutched it, in your head it was your key out of here. Through the day, Brian had been in charge of watching you the most. He understood human bodily functions and every few hours would walk you to the bathroom. It was a risk but you were careful while you worked away. 

Every trip to the bathroom was a mission to gnaw on the upper sides of the plastic. You'd shove the disc between your teeth and slowly gnaw away at its sides. The plastic may have been hard, but it was cheap. It would sink under your teeth after a few bites. It made your teeth ache and the plastic would occasionally slip in your fingers, roughly grating against your gums. You could take the aches as they'd lead to your freedom.

Progress was faster than you expected. It was starting to look like a tear drop over an oval. Freedom was close. You'd be a forest hermit in no time.

Your eyes glued themselves to the door as you quickly whittled away at the plastic. Listening for any movement. None of them had barged in on you before out of a sliver of respect, but you wouldn't put it passed them. Your mind began to wander despite the fear. It was probably the absurdity of peeing while biting a clown head to escape the murder man bachelor pad.

The smiles between them, the soft caring moments they let slip passed their murder happy exteriors; it just kept on hammering a horrible idea into your brain. They were human once, they'd been just like you. Would you end up just like them?


	22. 21 - Misery Loves Company

The clown looked like a teardrop if teardrops were more jagged and less refined around the edges. Your clown teardrop's point had actually began to look like that, a point. It wasn't very sharp honestly and it probably wouldn't pierce skin to easily. That was fine. You original intent still stayed in mind whenever you whittled the plastic away. If you could, you'd shove the plastic clown right into one of their eyes. They could heal from it no problem but they'd be a bit disoriented without the aid of a whole eye for a few minutes. All you knew is that you had to strike at the perfect time. When you were alone with one of them. Preferably not Toby, motherfucker wouldn't feel it.

They were in a good mood this morning, much to your distaste. Before you had Tim escort you to the bathroom, you all had been sitting in the living room. Tim and Toby had fought over feeding you cheerios before Brian untied your hands, with way too much intense eye contact for your liking. Either way, it was nice to not feel like a baby. You seemed to have earned some micron of trust or respect from the man, you couldn't really tell but you appreciated it nonetheless.

As you and Tim exited the hall into the living room, his hand resting on your shoulder, there was a soft buzzing. You couldn't distinguish which direction it was coming from, your eyes darting around the room quickly. You paused, Tim continued onward for a moment before pausing right next to you and looking back at you to glare.

"What the fuck are ya' doing?" It was less of a 'you're stupid and I hate you' tone of phrase and more of a rude curiosity.

Deciding to ignore him out of spite and genuine curiosity you began, "Do you hear that?"

Tim blinked, tone melting into one that held poorly hidden terror, his glare softening around the edges, "Hear what?" 

It was like someone suddenly turned up the volume on whatever shitty TV the buzzing was coming from, like the connection to the station had been completely severed and you were plunged into a sea of static. It sounded like you were surrounded a bunch of them, shitty TV's. The human brain can't feel pain for itself, the fleshy mass just tells your nerves to scream. The static made it feel like your brain could feel pain, some-fucking-how. 

You doubled over, hands flying to your forehead with a grunt. Tim's hand slid off your shoulder as you stumbled back. "What the fuck!?" You hadn't really been keeping track of time the past few days. Your first thought that the pain that felt like getting impaled through the head was the work of you period. That shit can get bad, it'd never made you have an auditory hallucination but weirder things have happened to you.

You were on the floor. You didn't know when or how you got there; you didn't feel your body hit the floor. You were just suddenly laying face down, the coarse carpet digging into your flesh. The buzzing volume had increased tenfold, everything aside from the buzzing fell away. You couldn't hear anything else, you couldn't see, you couldn't move; you were drowning. If you could feel your body anymore you'd feel your entire body shaking, muscles feeling like they were going to vibrate right off of your bones.

You couldn't feel the limits of your body provided by your skin. You couldn't see, not even the blackness that comes with closed eyes and unconsciousness. There was nothing but the buzzing and the vague idea of your pitiful existence.

Something was there with you in the buzzing. It was indescribable, you couldn't see it, feel it, but it was there. You knew it was. There was no sound from it but it told you to get up through the static. No, it didn't tell you, it commanded you and your buzzing body blindly obeyed. 

Your body moved on its own, puppeteered solely by the will of the unseen being. Your face removed itself from the gray carpet, the second it lifted your eyes opened involuntarily. You could see but you could not decide where your eyes looked, you could feel the buzzing like a million bees behind your eyes. If you had even an ounce of autonomy you would be scratching at them, clawing at the sensation invading your mind. The threads of the carpet melted and waved together, your sight had been corrupted by an overlay of gray and grainy shapeless forms. It was like static of a shitty TV but more free form. 

The gray mixed with the (f/c) of your sweatshirt as your head continued to rise, your forearms coming into view. When you fell they must have splayed themselves beside your head. You couldn't feel the fabric on your skin or the pressure of the floor beneath you. All you were was mindless sight and buzzing flesh. 

It told your muscles to look up, as your neck snapped your head into place. There was a heaving form before you. You couldn't hear anything over the buzzing, which only seemed to grow in volume when you looked upon the form. It was like an angry nest of bees spouting propaganda. 

It wanted you to see more so it had your neck and head shift. You could hardly see the forms in your peripherals, but they were shaking in your shifting sight. Focusing on their positions was impossible but there was the knowledge suddenly in your head that they were curled into a ball and laying face down respectively. You just knew that the one in a ball was Toby, you couldn't hear him but you knew he was sobbing, you knew he was screaming. The one laying face down was making a futile attempt to deafen the buzzing, hands clutching and digging into the sides of his head. It was Brian, large and in charge once, but now on the floor, full of fear and agony.

It wanted you to see something else, something more, something grander, something _powerful._ Your head shifted away from all of the forms of your captors, your eyes met something all the way across the room. Your wavering sight on its own wouldn't allow you to understand the form before you. So it implanted the idea of what you were seeing in your head. It let you understand. **He** let you understand.

Two black lines swayed behind the shapeless forms of static that clouded your sight. You knew those were a pair of feet and long, long, legs. **His** legs. It had your head slowly follow the form of its legs up and up. They stopped, the legs, as they hit the ceiling. It let you see more, your head pulling itself backwards. 

First, you had to push your upper body up with your forearms, moving your muscles felt like thousands of needles embedding themselves into every square inch of skin, injecting something unknown into your veins. Whatever it was, it hurt, moving hurt. 

Through the agony of which you couldn't scream, was the sight of a long torso pressed up against the ceiling. It legs were across the room all the way to the limits of the room, so it had to bend itself in half. Its torso was covered in dark fabric or maybe the supposed fabric was it's skin. You couldn't tell, it just kept on implanting thoughts of knowledge in your brain. You could only watch. 

Your body further peeled itself up, torso and head beginning to lean back. Its upper body stretched across the ceiling and you still couldn't see its head. You saw two long arms hanging idly, right before the mouth of the hallway that you and Tim had barley walked through before everything got weird. They hung from shoulders yet to be seen, long wavering lines that draped from the ceiling to the floor. Its long spindly hands curled back to make room for themselves to rest on the carpet, having run out of room. It told you they were bone white.

Your eyes shooting back up, from the floor before you to right above you. It's neck broke the long standing sea of black that was its body, a white mockery of human skin pulled taught over its form. You only knew it was so because it let you know. Then it let you see its head.

It was pressed up against the ceiling, right above yours, your neck craning back to look at it head on. At first you couldn't tell if it was the shifting and melting forms and the gray tinge to your vision but it didn't have a face. It cleared your sight only where its head was. 

It was like a skull free of muscle and blood had a thin layer of white spandex stretched over it so tight that it about to tear open. But it didn't. It's false skin stayed wrapped around its long skeletal looking head. It was a mimicry of the human form. Its long forehead melted into brow bones that dipped into empty valleys of eyeless sockets. Past the duel dips in its form were sharp mountains of implied cheek bones framing the idea of a nose. All three of the forms converged into a smooth surface where its mouth should be. There was no implied shapes there, it was just flat and barren. 

Its hold on your mind didn't waver as the form it let you know as pathetic began to shakily stand. A single free thought said that it was possible, to stand up to its hold, it stand up to **him**. To be in its presence and think and move of your own accord. It killed that thought with a burning pain all over your body, you opened your mouth to scream. If you did you couldn't hear it.

There was no sound coming from the form of a man who now stood over you, his checkered pajama pants obscuring your sight, but nothing could block out the presence looming all around you. Tim's fists were clenched, his knuckles white and shaking. His legs wobbling as his form swayed in your vision, he was unsteady but determined. It would not allow you to hear what the man had to say. 

**He** was still looking at you. **He** had no eyes but he was looking at you, always had been, always will be. You knew because it let you. It was an eternal presence of all knowing omnipotence. You didn't see its head move, it was just suddenly pointed towards the man that stood above you. 

Its hand was suddenly on the mans face, entrapping it in its long palm. Spindly fingers wrapped around the back of his skull in a cage of white. 

Then they were gone. 

The static immediately ceased but the agony stayed, your entire body was asleep but your mind was painfully awake and aware of what just happened. Your body couldn't handle the sudden stress as your head smashed into the gray carpet.

**\----**

_**"There's more at stake here than Alexis getting fucking beaten."** _

_"Oh? Like this kid fucking dying?!" Henry snapped, fists curling at his sides._

_"This is bigger than him." Dan responded hollowly, lips curled into a frown._

_"What is that even, like, supposed to fucking mean Dan?" Alexis didn't dare take another step towards her boyfriend who was clearly having some sort of manic breakdown._

_"This is bigger than us going to jail." Dan urged, his tone had whipped from angry, to hollow, to pathetically desperate. He didn't let his words hang in the air, "He killed somebody." He pointed a thick accusatory finger at the boy on the ground. He was writhing and moaning in pain, unaware of the conversation taking place above him._

_"He killed somebody?" Henry looked to the broken boy. He didn't look he could do anything like that. Even if his body wasn't a mess of unhealthily twisted limbs, he was a skinny, hairless, sickly pale, boy. He looked more like a hairless cat than a murderer._

_"Daniel," Jen held out her hands before reaching for the shaking body of her brother before her, "You're upset. I get it. We," She said the title reluctantly, "Just hit someone with Mom and Dad's car," The entire time she spoke her sentiments Dan shoved a fist into his pocket, quickly unlocking it and tapping the screen a few times fervently."I get having a breakdown but it'll be okay. Let's just-"_

_He_ _shoved his phone into Jen's face. She recoiled, taking a step back. Nearly stepping on the boy's head. You were still glued to your spot, you couldn't move, couldn't stop the tears from rolling down your face._

_"Where did you get those photos?" Jen asked carefully, trying to keep the horror, the disgust, out of her voice. Alexis leaned over the shorter girl to see what was on the phone's screen._

_"Do you believe me now?" Dan asked lowly with a shaky breath. Henry gently pushed past Alexis to see the phone as well._

_"That could be fake." Henry spoke softly and unconvincingly._

_"Daniel, why do you have those on your phone?" Jen questioned, another careful step back. Her heel brushing against the boy's hair._

_He didn't respond. Eyes darting between each of the people before him. From Jen, to Alexis, to Henry, to Michael, to you. When he looked your way, you locked eyes. His eyes were a mess of blown out irises and bloodshot scleras. You were scared enough already: a body on the ground, the one responsible and looking rabid, looking into you. You wondered if he was going to kill you too. His eyes flickered off you for a moment, just to the right of you. There was no one immediately to your right but the way his mouth fell open and brows raised made it look like the fear of god had been stuck into him at that very moment._

_"Don't question it." Daniel raspily responded as you shot your head over your shoulder. It was dark outside, you couldn't see anything beyond the clearing you stood in. The still running cars yellow headlights cut through the shadow to bathe your pathetic party in pale light. You all looked sickly in its glow. It didn't extended out too long or wide, the Baker family mini-van's high beams fucking sucked and never worked. The low beams were all they could use._

_"Of course we're going to question why there's pics of a fucking dead body on your phone, dumb ass!" Henry barked over Michael's sobbing which had only increased in volume as time ticked on by._

_There was nothing you could see behind you. Just the long implied forms of trees in the dim light that quickly dissipated after the first line of nature. You don't know what Dan have seen. You continued to gaze into the dark lines of forest, looking for movement while the chattering continued behind you._

_"Did you help him? Is that why you have those?" Alexis gasped in her realization, the accusation ripping itself from her throat._

_"No! I'm not," Dan's voice was breaking down,"I'm not like," His voice was cracking and crumbling apart, "Like him." He wheezed in a sputtering breath, a telltale sign of someone about to sob._

_"Daniel?" You couldn't bring yourself to turn around and change your life. Seeing Dan cry would rock the shit out of your world view and opinion of him. Dan didn't cry, ever. You didn't want to accept the fact that he was an actual person with depth and intricacies over an angry meathead._

_"Please," There it was again, for the second time in your life, that word from Dan's voice,"Just believe me." There was another ragged breath followed by a cracking whimper._

_"Dan?" Looking for the supposed thing in the forest was like playing 'Where's Waldo'. You were looking for an abnormal shape amongst the already unruly line of trees._

_"I'm so scared." You could barely hear the words whispered from a voice you knew as Dan's. You didn't want to look, didn't want to believe. You didn't know what the fuck was on his phone or why everyone was questioning it. You didn't care about it. You cared about unchanging, still believing Dan to be a stupid fuck-ass with a penchant for violence. That nothing was going on around you. You were a stubborn coward._

_"Scared of what?"_

_You think you saw it. The irregular form. It took way too long to find considering how close it was but it blended in so well. All the form was, was an offshoot of a tree. A long line that had an oddly rounded slope to its side, the slope leading into a horizontal line that quickly fell downwards. It was like a person without a defined head. It wasn't bright enough to see anything else. It was just a murky form of a most likely odd bush._

_"I don't want to kill anybody." Dan let out a bark of a sob, sharp yet pitiful. "I don't want it to hurt you."_

_"Me?" Jen spoke pointedly as your gaze bore into the odd form._

_More sharp jabs of vocal pity sounded from behind you. "Yeah."_

_"Daniel, what is that supposed to mean?" Jen's words stayed astute and analytical. You wondered if she was crying or was eerily straight faced._

_"It'll make me do it. I know it." He spoke cryptically. You began to consider the idea of turning around, supposedly Jen's safety was on the line._

_The dark form you'd assumed was part of the tree shifted, ever so slightly. Just a slight movement to the right while the thick line of the tree you thought it was a part of remained unmoving. You didn't want to look at it anymore._

_"I don't want to kill anybody. Not even." He paused, probably looking down at the supposed murderer._

_Your mind stuck to the vague idea that Jen's life was in danger. Dan was a lot of things but he wasn't a liar. You took in a shaky breath, willing to change your view of the teenager. If he was really crying then his vague hints at Jen's life were true enough in your books._

_Turning, your scruffy shoes brushed up against a dusty brown and gray rock. Your eyes flickered from it the Dan who stood curled into himself feet away. Clutching the top of his head in curled hands. His body violently quaked with his wet and ragged breaths. It took a few moments for his arms to shift so you could see his face. It was contorted into itself in a slick red mess. Tears glistened in the headlights, snot dribbled from his nostrils, slipping onto his lips which were curled into a toothy grimace._

_"Somebody please just kill him."_

_That was all the push you needed to bend down and grab the rock that lay at your feet._

**\----**

"(Y/n)?" Your skin softly vibrated and pickled, feeling electrified. "(Y/n)?" Rough skin patted the vibrations away. The soft buzzing subsiding with human contact.

Your eyes opened of their own volition, an act of your own _. "What."_ You breathed out the only word your mind could conjure. Thinking back to the thing had your body buzzing once more. "Stop." You commanded your flesh in a panic. You were laying on your back, Toby kneeling beside your head. "What's happening?" Your gasped, panic taking over your body. Your body began to sweat, lungs demanding more air, your heart thundering unhealthily in your rib cage. Your body was in fight or flight mode but you could only move your face. "I can't move." You realized aloud, panic seizing your vocal cords, causing your voice to sounded pinched and winded.

Toby looked down at you, the living room light reflecting something shiny on his cheeks. He'd been crying, it made you know he'd been. "First tuh-time, huh?" Toby questioned with a wavering smile as he lifted you up by the shoulders. You didn't have the energy to protest. He lifted your upper body off of the floor, letting your arms hang by your sides and legs drag behind you. He dragged you backwards as your head lulled forward, directing your gaze to your limp yet overstimulated body. 

"Why can't I move?" You mumbled as the carpet below passed by your fingertips. "What was that?" The only things you could really say were general observations and questions. There was no spite or anger. Just fear and confusion. 

Toby further lifted you up, you only groaned in response to the action. Your feet were now the only part of you touching the floor, dragging along limply. Toby shifted behind you, coming to your side before gingerly lowering you onto the couch. His touch the entire time had been free of tics, free of sadistic intent. It felt like you were his drunk friend and he was your designated driver at the end of a long night. 

Toby let himself fall onto the couch beside you, relaxing his entire body, sliding down into the cushions, a shuddering breath leaving his lips. "How's the oh-old muh-man?" He called out.

Your eyes lazily swam forwards, away from your sweatshirt which was now darkened in an uneven circle around the neckline. Did you droll all over yourself or something? On the floor behind the coffee table you could see a kneeling Brian. He looked concerned, brows furrowed and mouth turned to a frown. He didn't respond to Toby as his shifted his arms about, you couldn't see what he was doing. 

A low grumble came from what he was kneeling over, Tim. He had taken him. How long were you out? How long was Tim gone?

"I'm up." He slurred out. A bloody hand came into view, slowly wrapping its thick fingers around Brian's horrible fortnite t-shirt. 

"Come on, man." Hearing a friendly nickname spoken so softly from Brian was a flooring experience for you. However you think you just saw God so like, it wasn't really that surprising in the moment. Tim groaned as Brian threw an arm over his shoulder, both of the men slowly standing.

Tim looked like shit, more so than usual. His tye-dye t-shirt was no longer blue and yellow but instead deep reds and browns. Large uneven circular rips dotted the fabric, it was less of a shirt now and more of a torn up rag that hung loosely off of his shoulders, exposing his heaving chest. Rising to his feet, leaning on Brian for support, you saw his plaid pajama pants had received the same treatment. Full of rips and tears, covered in blood. Some dry, some fresh. Either way, you saw no gaping holes or oozing gashes along his body. He seemed to be physically okay. Though the wild look in his eyes as he regarded the couch told you that his mental state was in shambles. 

You were too drained to feel good about his disoriented state, too shaken to feel anything other than a desperate sense of solidarity with the man.

"Thanks." Tim mumbled as the duo stumbled around the coffee table. The second they were within proximity to the couch, they both let themselves fall onto it. The force of the two men falling onto the couch in unison sent you and Toby a few inches into the air. You couldn't steady yourself as your body shifted through the air. 

You grunted when the back of your skull landed on something solid. Your confused eyes shot down to your torso, you still couldn't move your head or neck, anything but your face. Your body was laying on the remainder of the couch, one leg hanging off of the side while the other lay on and around the armrest. You arms landed lazily on your stomach, hands loosely unfurled. You looked up to see Toby looking down at you. Your head was resting on his lap, you realized dully. 

"Get the fuck off of me." You mumbled, your half lidded gaze, weak body, and slurred speech doing nothing to deter him.

"You're th-the one on mmm-me." Toby's smile was weak but it was there. A hint of mischief in it, as always.

"Get me off." You flatly commanded. You felt like shit, mind still buzzing and body paralyzed. 

Tim let out a weak laugh, you rolled your eyes back as far as they could go to get a glimpse of him. "Dinner and movie first, remember?" 

The callback was a bittersweet one. A stoke of comedic genius even in such shitty circumstances. You didn't appreciate it being thrown back into your face though. You didn't mean it like that but then again, neither did Tim the first time you'd said those words to him.

"Oh fuck you." You huffed with what you think was a smile.

"What did I just say?" Tim urged, shifting his his seat. Turning to you and Toby with a weak smile. His hair was matted chunks of brown, black, and red, plastered to his sickly pale skin. His nose look like it'd shot out a jet stream of blood with how much blood covered his nostrils and lower face.

"Whatever," You huffed, "What the fuck was that?"

" **Him**." Brian grunted as you let your eyes wander from Tim's bloodied face to the ceiling. Your view wasn't completely free of the men though. You were laying on Toby's lap after all, you could still see him.

You tried to ignore his eyes on your face, scanning for your reaction either to your position or situation. He always seemed to be analyzing those around him, failing to see how pale and sickly his own face looked, how deep and dark the bags were around his observant eyes. "Oh so The O-"

"Don't say it's name." Brian quickly urged before the words could fully pass your lips. 

"Why?" You focused your eyes on the white ceiling where it had once been pressed up against.

"If you say its name than it is more likely to come around and do that shit again." Tim informed flatly. "Kinda your fault ya'know, (Y/n)?" He was tired and his tone softly accusatory. 

"Sorry." You'd completely avoided saying the word to the men the entire time, even jokingly. You apologize when you feel bad and don't intend to do a certain wrong again. You felt bad, like a rat in a moldy gutter surrounded by moist garbage. Your experience being up close and personal with the thing was viscerally terrifying. You were in your body but it moved you. You were in your mind but it thought for you. You were like a sock with a foot in it. You never wanted to feel like that again. You hated each and every single one of them for what they'd done to those around you, for making you think they were hot and cool but they were really just fucking crazy. But you didn't want anyone on the goddamn planet to feel that way, that horribly hopeless experience of being a puppet.

"What does it want?" You avoided saying 'he' as if the pronoun was like a lesser form of his title. You were scared of even the idea of it coming back.

"We don't really know what it's aims are." Brian filled you in with a sigh, as your skin began to buzz again. Your eyes open wide in panic and fear, ironic when laying on a murderers lap. You didn't know what to do to stop the horrible sensation, if you could move your hands you'd claw at your skin. You'd rip yourself open to get to the bees that felt like they were buzzing right below your skin. "We just do what it wants us to."

"We're just it's little fucking slaves." Tim hissed as terror filled you. You just wanted to stop the buzzing just below the surface of your flesh. You wanted it gone. You wanted it out of your body.

"Proxies," Brian clarified softly as the buzzing climbed its way up your body and under the skin of your face, "We act as it's proxies." It made your teeth shake and tongue numb. "It wants us to do things for it in its place."

The vibrating buzz made its way to the back of your eyelids. You could only push out more questions you didn't know what else to do. "So you really have no control?"

"Do you really have that shit of a memory?" Tim lightheartedly scolded you, he wasn't in a good mood. His words were a pointed jab without the usual rage behind them. No one would be looking like him, looking like he'd been through hell and back. "Brian told you yesterday didn't he?"

You didn't respond. Not because your mind was mulling over the repeated information that was sinking deeper into your skull as the truth. It was because the buzzing entered your ears, being a physical sensation and slowly morphing into a ringing buzz coming from inside your flesh. You couldn't stop thinking about it's face, taut skin over a pointy skull. You screwed your eyes shut, hoping the blackness your eyelids provided would shield you from the mental imagery. It didn't do shit.

The same rough but unseen force touched you once more. It had slid into your hair, tangling strands of messy (h/c) locks between its fingers. The second the fingertips of the hand touched your scalp the ringing quieted itself. The buzzing sensation quickly retreated away, draining its presence from your flesh and bone. It was gone once more with human contact, your eyes opening slowly. 

There was no way you could see the hand that'd saved you from the horrible sensation, it was on the top of your head. Your eyes slid from the ceiling to the boy looking down at you. His cheeks were wet with still drying tears, the bags under his eyes had grown deep and dark, ringed with red. His messy hair had somehow grown even more unruly. 

One human spirit holding out a helping hand to another. It could come in person and fuck you up all it liked, but when it was gone and it's presence lingered in your flesh, human contact could shoo it away. Blind bravery in the face of complete bullshit, acts of solidarity in the darkest of times, still being hopeless but being hopeless together.

_Were they human?_

The unfamiliar tender touch on your scalp told you that your earlier thoughts were wrong. They were still human, to a weird fucked up extent. The revelation was world shaking but you were just too fucking tired to be shocked. If you could move, you don't know if you would have moved from the touch. You told yourself you would with a snarl, but deep down you just wanted comfort, you just wanted to feel okay. Even if it was through being in the worst spot you possibly could be. Even if they ruined your life. You'd selfishly turn your back on your morals just to keep the buzzing away. If you could move you'd tell the buzzing to fuck off by leaning into the hand in your hair. The buzz, the thing, The Operator was the 'big bad' here. You didn't need much exposition to figure that out after your little experience. 

You were more scared of it than them. They'd chased you down for so long that they were becoming a known for you, one of the only things constant in your mess of a life. But this, it was an enigmatic unknown that seemed eternally all powerful. They were just sock puppets waiting for a hand to force its way into their bodies, to shove aside their hopes and fears and emotions and pilot them soullessly. They were just as fucked up and helpless as you were, if not more so. Being traumatized isn't a competition though. 

"Does it come often? Make you move like that?" You pushed the question past your dry lips, something dry had been caked onto them. The strong taste in your mouth told you it was blood.

"Not vveeeh-veh-very mu-much." Toby answered, shoulders popping and rolling,"It ush-usually leaves us ah-alone. It oh-only mmmuh-muh-makes us-" Toby paused rapidly blinking and grimacing, his tics only grew worse as he stumbled over his words. A hand placed itself on his thigh, right beside your head. Toby's tics didn't completely cease but they quickly lessened with the firm hand, providing comfort. An act of solidarity, akin to the one he did for you. Does this mean you're a part of their fucked up family unit?

"It's okay Toby." Tim spoke softly to the distressed boy who'd begun to cry once more, "We'll take over."

"Thank you for starting for us Toby." Brian chimed in, reassuring the boy who's free hand shot up to wipe tears away. You only saw his hand a moment but the flesh on it was uneven, fingers full off unnatural dips and valleys. The hand was gone faster than it came. 

There was a beat of silence in the conversation as Toby softly whimpered to himself. Another hand placed itself on his shoulder, and he shifted leaning into the touch. The hand in your hair slowly began rubbing its fingertips on your scalp. You didn't object. You were using his touch to ground yourself and he was using the feel of his companions hand's and your weight in his lap to ground himself back into reality.

Your fingertips twitched, movement allowing itself back into your system slowly as Brian began, "He lets us move on our own most of the time. _That_ ," He referred to his presence, how it fucked all of you up, "Doesn't happen often. It just happens sometimes. It does it to keep its hold on us."

"Hold?" You were too tired to be an asshole. 

"If you leave everything behind, forget about it, it doesn't come 'round as often." Tim interjected bitterly, "Almost made it out once. Everything was fine for awhile. I mean, it was still pretty fuckin' awful but it was outta my life." Tim had been so selective about things he'd been letting you in on, protesting to simple questions such as if he could sing or not. Something was in the air that made him talk. That something was all of you being exhausted and traumatized, Tim getting the worst of whatever had happened. Being punished for talking back to an eldritch God couldn't be fun. "It only took one little fuck up and it was back. Needs ya to think about it for it to be in your life, some shit like that." Tim groaned out the confession of his past. He sounded bitter, fucked up; the same way you sound talking about Jen, about that night with the rock.

"Oh." Your mind slowly and lazily processed the information. "You're scared?" You asked dumbly, the answer was obvious but some fucked up part of you wanted them to validate the thought. To validate that there was something truly scarier than them.

"No shit." Tim responded as the possibility of movement spread slowly up your arms. You didn't move them, they could move, but they felt like they were covered in hardened concrete. 

"We have to do what it wants. We have no choice. If we don't comply it'll make us do _it_ anyway. It's best to just do the job without fighting it." Brian pessimistically filled you in.

"So at the cabin..." You began slowly, rolling every word carefully off your tongue. Not to carefully choose your words, but you were afraid to hear that it was just a job. The will of some lanky ass eldritch entity. To hear that the men who carried out the filthy deeds had to do it not of their own volition. That they were helpless bastards stuck in water twelve feet deep with boots made out of concrete. You were scared to be able to empathize with them. 

"Yeah." Tim didn't need to hear the rest of the question to properly.

You were so close to feeling bad for them, a gut spinning feeling. There was still so much keeping you from fully doing so.

"Why?" You began, raspy voice as angry as it could be. You could move your legs now but you let them lay where they'd fallen. Dull, watered down by pity, anger laced your tone, "Why did you fucking play with us? With me?"

Toby's whimpers had ceased but he didn't answer your question. He just looked down at you with a pathetically tear stricken face, some of them slipping into his gruesome gash.

Tim filled you in, "It's hard to feel bad after going about it for so long." His words held a hollow sorrow, without acceptance, a fighting spirit akin to yours. "Ya' get jaded after so long. Once killing gets boring you try to fuckin' kill yourself. Ya get over your fear of death and you think to yourself, _'I'm gonna die, so it can't fuckin' use me anymore. If I'm dead I won't be this shell of myself anymore. It can't punish me anymore.'_ Then you kill yourself and ya'know what happens (Y/n)?" You could feel his eyes on you, but couldn't bring yourself to look at him, to tear yourself away from Toby's already pitiful gaze.

You kept your mouth shut for once, listening reluctantly. Please don't say something to humanize yourself, you internally begged him. You couldn't voice your desire for him to shut the fuck up, even though you want to be as hateful and resentful as possible.

"It brings you back. Then it puts so many fucking holes in you," Your minds eye thought to his bloody form, the holes in his clothes, "With it's fingers. It can reach into you, pull things out." He grimly recalled, "It can make you fuckin' feel shit that you didn't think was possible, hurt you when you don't think you can feel anything anymore. Fucks you in the head, shows ya shit it _knows_ will fuck you up." Tim's words were angrily accusatory at the being that was no longer there. You didn't know what this had to do with why they toyed with you.

"It's a fucked up cycle that just gets worse every time," Tim's voice was shaking and cracking, it was strikingly similar to how Dan's broke down that night, " _So."_ He hissed, his resentful monologue stopping. He didn't continue as his breaths hitched in sharp jabs.

"You take your anger out when you're doing his dirty work." Brian continued for Tim, a soft patting sound entering your ears as Tim took in long heaving gasps, he was trying not to cry. It was jarring and so much like Dan. "Taunting becomes a part of it more and more. Then it becomes something of a reprieve. It makes us feel powerless and pitiful, so we make targets feel the same." Brian flatly informed, the disgusting information worming its way into your brain. You knew he was telling you the truth, there was no reason to hide anything anymore. You already knew so much.

A beat of silence would have fill the room if Tim would cease his pitiful heaving. 

"You all know how fucked up that sounds right?" It was all you could think to say. Their reasoning made you livid but you were too tired to fight them over it. A fucked up part of you understood the reasoning. Wanting to feel in power when you had none. They brought those feelings onto you so strongly. It made you sick to understand them.

` You'd had two encounters with the thing, you assumed the horrible buzz that took over your mind when you killed Jimmy Holt was it, was what made you do it. It was hard to tell if the second encounter was worse, it showing itself and showing how helpless you are to it. You'd been around it two times but it struck a visceral fear of god into you. It was worse than death and it let you know that, it put the information in you head because it willed it. Your experience with the thing didn't hold a candle to theirs bu you couldn't imagine how pants-shittingly horrifying their lives were at this point to be okay with the reasoning Brian had just coldly delivered to you.

You couldn't stop humanizing them and you fucking hated it. Every time you felt pity or sympathy for them, your brain screamed at you, showed you memories of Brian stomping on Michael's head, of Jen's body growing cold in your shaking hands. But you couldn't stop. There was something about knowing their circumstances that made it so easy to do so. That didn't mean you forgave them for their digressions. They killed your old kinda friends, they killed Emile, they stalked you, they took you here against your fucking will. Pity and forgiveness were two very different things.

Toby's fingers spun locks of your hair between each other, it felt nice. Akin to Jen playing with your hair in high school, tying ugly little braids on the top of your head during late nights. Instead the person who _killed_ Jen was doing the soft action to you, to comfort you or himself you couldn't tell. Either way, it showed raw human emotion and solidarity. 

"Yeah." They spoke in a cracked unison of tired voices. They knew how pitiful they were, good. 

Tim had stopped his gasping, a true beat of silence washed over the room.

You hated it, "Am I one of you now?" Your guts anxiously churned as you felt the allowance of movement fill your body once more. You could get up if you wanted to. You just wanted comfort, you just wanted touch, even if it was revolting. You gotta do what you gotta do on this bitch of a planet to keep mentally sound, even though you weren't very sound mentally anymore and don't think you ever will be.

"No." The words from Brian filled you with a cold wave of relief, "When you are, you'll _know."_ The idea of him putting another thought or idea in your head was terrifying. You hoped that you'd never know.

"Oh." Something else still nagged at you, "Hey tiny dick," You croaked, rolling your eyes back to meet with the bloody face of Tim, "How the fuck did you stand up?"

Tim let out an annoyed huff through his bloodied nostrils, "Spite." He smiled down at you, lips slick and red. He was just like you, just like Brian said. 

"What about you two?" You tilted your head back, hair shifting in Toby's hand. Brian looked worse for wear, more than he had the first night you arrived. His hair disheveled, face sweaty, thick lines of blood had spilled passed his lips and dried at some point, his dark stubble making his face look gaunt and sick.

"I've accepted that this is it." There was a small frown on Brian's lips, brows upturned in a pitiful look. You'd never take him for a quitter. Shocking, considering that he seems like he has his shit together the most out of everyone in the entire household. 

"I just cuh-cuh-can't duh-do it." Toby's confession wasn't as shocking. There was something clearly wrong with him mentally, more so then his companions. "He mmuh-makes mmm-me feel puh-pain."

"How?" Your eyes flickered to the boy above you.

"People with congenital insensitivity to pain can only feel pain when under extreme emotional distress." Brian blurted out the mouthful of a diagnosis as an explanation, you didn't get it. You supposed he was speaking on Toby's behalf, the boy looked like he was going to cry again any moment now, his eyes glassy and distant. "It can give him splitting headaches due to the emotional stress. It's best for him to not try to stand up to it or he'll be in a lot of pain for a long time." You felt that he was oversharing a bit on Toby's behalf, but the boy didn't look bothered with the fact that you knew more about him in the slightest. 

"Ah." Was all you could say in response to the heap of nerd shit Brian just dumped on your brain.

"Did you puh-puh-piss yer-yourself?" Toby asked out of the blue, looking down at you with an uneven grin.

"What?" You genuinely couldn't believe he just asked you that. You were going to answer him anyway, it felt fair after they dumped all that information onto you. "No. I don't think so. Did you?" You raised your brows with a forced challenging smile. You hated the fact that it felt fair, somewhat just to speak to him, even if it was in a joking way.

"I only puh-puh-pissed my sssuh-self _once."_ Toby admitted the incredibly embarrassing information with a cheeky smile, without a regret. "Luh-lucky for yuh-you now wah-wasn't that once." You were suddenly very aware of your position once more. Head laying on his lap, his hand playing with your hair. His companions hands sat on the boy in a comforting grip.

Silence lulled over your not-so-merry band as your thoughts began to wander. You knew you weren't a part of their group. You technically weren't one of them as Brian said, but laying so casually with them made you feel that you were. Brian's words from last night had sunk deep into your bones, you wished he had kept his mouth shut. Relating to Tim made you feel inhuman which in comparison humanized him. You hated that you were similar to him. You hated that you could somewhat understand their reasoning. You hated the fact that they had more depth than just being forcibly blood thirsty puppets. This shit sucks.

It, **him** , The Operator, the stick figure, the twink, whatever, could suck your dick. The men horrified you to no end but the thing in charge of them was infinitely more powerful. It was the root of your problems. You and everyone at the cabin that night were a job for some reason. As much as you wanted to know why, you didn't want to stick around to find out.

Despite it seeming impossible to escape your circumstances with some sort of freaky tall, eldritch fuck-head 'considering' you to be it's proxy; you were going to escape.

Just like you always did.


	23. 22 - Knife To See You

The thing about meeting an eldritch entity that kinda wants you to be its proxy is that it's draining as fuck. You don't know when you fell asleep but you did, right on the lap of a dirty rat boy. You would have thought your sleep would be restless, dreams of horrible things, bloated corpses and bloody hands. Yet there was none. When you awoke you felt strangely refreshed, almost like your life wasn't in shambles at the will of the overgrown mockery of a business man.

Your crusty eyes peeled themselves open, the first thing you felt was your dry mouth. You were thirsty. Your hands slid off of your stomach, pushing themselves into the couch cushions. You were still resting on Toby's lap, the boy was completely relaxed into the couch; eyes shut and mouth wide open, his head loosely resting on the back of the couch. He was obnoxiously snoring and droll had rolled passed his lips and through his cheekless face down his stubbly chin onto his shirt. You don't know how his snoring hadn't immediately woken you but you were glad it didn't. Rising with a quiet yawn, you noticed the house was quiet besides Toby's snores. Too quiet.

You spun your head around, the couch was free of Tim and Brian. That didn't mean that they were out of the house, they could have gone to their rooms. Either way, they just handed you a golden opportunity to fuck right off. Was it too good to be true? Probably. But your heart still beat with anticipation, your hand twitching towards the clown shiv in your pocket.

You carefully shifted your weight, placing your shaky feet onto the carpet. Your eyes were on Toby, searching for any sign of him waking up. There were none. Standing, your knees felt like they were rattling as they shook and knocked together. The twig took a lot out of you. Either way, you made a beeline for the kitchen. Taking long careful strides, trying not to upset the floorboards beneath the carpet. You subconsciously slowed your breathing, like it'd make you sneakier.

Reaching the doorway to the kitchen felt like an Olympic achievement. You shot your head over your shoulder to the still snoring Toby slumped over on the couch. You then turned your head towards the hallway to see not a soul inside it. You were in the clear unless Brian was going to sneak up on you somehow. If he did you were _so_ going to stomp on his balls.

With the coast sufficiently clear, you crept into the kitchen. The wooden floor beneath your feet let out a groan as you stepped onto it. Cringing, you looked to Toby once more. Still snoring.

Turning back to the kitchen, the first thing you noticed were the colorful plastic letters on the refrigerator. As you slowly advanced through the kitchen, looking to escape through the front door, you read the message comprised of magnets. ' _No co0k1ng'_ The first read, whoever through it together had run out of letters, opting to use numbers to finish the message. There was one below it, ' _0ut 5hop1ng'._ This was too good to be true. They just left you alone with Toby. Probably under the false assumption you'd be knocked out all day, or maybe seeing that thing would have broken your spiteful will to escape. Dead wrong. It did the exact opposite; it made you want to get out of there as soon as humanly possible.

You were starting to pity and humanize the men who'd carried out the dirty work for the evil twig. They may have no choice but it's kinda hard to get over the fact that they fucked with you while killing people you knew. They could have just killed you or taken you a long time ago but they decided to have some fun with you. You understood their reasoning to a fucked up extent but you couldn't exactly relate to having a gay ole time while bashing someones brains in.

As you approached the door, you passed by a stack of papers on the counter top. You couldn't quite tell the medium of which the drawings were made. Spirals, sharp angles, and silhouettes built up the shapes of plant life. It was conceptual, beautiful. You weren't here to look at art that you knew a crazy killer made. You tore your gaze from the papers, listening to Toby's snoring as you bounded over to the door. 

Grasping the cool metal handle gave you the fattest rush of dopamine you'd had since Goober choose you over Brian. You twisted the handle, shaking the thoughts of the man away. If you were going to escape you'd unfortunately have to leave the little idiot behind. As much as you hated to admit it, Brian seemed like he'd be a good dog dad. 

The handle made it all of a few centimeters before stopping. It was locked, of course things wouldn't be easy for you. You pulled your hand away, mouth agape in an expression of ' _oh for fucks sake'._ There had to be windows. There were none in the kitchen or living room, you could try one of their rooms. 

Turning on your heels you made the cringe worthy journey across the kitchen once more. Noting that you couldn't see a knife block. You were too scared to look through all the drawers for a blade, the screeching of the drawers could wake the boy. Even if he seemed to be completely unconscious. The floorboards groaned and whined before your feet made contact with the carpet once more. Toby was still there, in the same position, still drooling all over himself. You felt the twinge of a smile play on your lips before you pushed it away, mental images of Jen's slumped over body clouding you mind.

You turned into the hall, creeping down the corridor. Only one door was open, the door at the very end of the hall. Brian's room. You wouldn't have to deal with the groan of the doors hinges. They really believed that you'd be out all day. Understandable. You didn't exactly feel very spry and young. Your joints aches, your healing skin dully throbbed, your muscles were sore. Part of you wanted to lay back down, accept that this was your life now. Give into the shitty twig man's will and wait for its decision on if you live or die. You'd never been one to take things as they come, so you continued onward, slipping into Brian's room.

You carefully looked around, noting the crumbled up wads of paper littering the wooden floor. You'd been in here before. The chunky TV sitting on a wooden desk next to an even chunkier computer set up. There was a mess of wires and what you think were wi-fi routers below the desk. A wooden chair with a pillow shoved into its bottom sat partially pushed into the desk. The setup looked prehistoric, ancient, kinda dirty.

You'd seen Sully on the TV, you'd cried in here, been held up by the hair in here, called them _'subordinates for the big bad twink'_ in here. 

You pushed the bitter memories away, something else catching your eye. Hanging on the wall was a metal and wooden shelf. It had large hooks that held giant fucking guns. There were a few of them, the guns. Going down the shelf, each one carefully sat atop the hooks. You recognized the rifle that shot through Alexis's tits with a cringe. It only spurred you to keep going. 

His bed was half made, wrappers and other miscellaneous garbage littering the sheets. Behind the headboard of the bed sat your savior, an open window framed by raggedy curtains, blowing softly in the breeze. Morning light shone through the glass, looking like heavens open gates. You approached the bed, noting the curled up fuzzy form of Goober at the foot of the bed. You wanted so badly to reach a hand out and run it though his soft fur. Goober would wake up though, he'd get excited and might blow your cover. You solemnly kept your hands to yourself, saying your internal goodbyes. 

You waited until you were as close as you could be to the window before stepping onto the bed. You cringed as it groaned beneath your weight. The mattress was a lot softer then expected, having a lot more give then you expected. You wobbled, grasping the headboard for support. Looking down at your hands as you steadied yourself, you noticed a few interesting items on his bedside table. Silver keys and your phone. 

You bent down and snatched the keys without a second thought, opting to leave your phone. It was useless to you now. There was no one of the fucking planet who could help you but yourself, you were kinda tired of it but that's how it is. You noticed a few more pass-code ideas scribbled beside your phone. Brian was getting close. He'd cast aside the idea that your pass-code would be something meaningful. There were crossed out lists of numbers such as _'0-0-0-0'_ or _'1-2-3-4'._ The closest he'd gotten to your pass-code was _'4-3-1-1_ '. It had the same sentiment as ' _8-0-0-8_ '. Being a word if typed into a calculator, that word being ' _hell'._ It was something you'd type into your calculator in middle school and cackle at behind your teachers back. It was juvenile and Brian was catching onto the fact that your pass-code was likely to be a stupidly clever, just like you.

Whatever, you'd be long gone before he figured it out. You stuffed the keys into your sweatpants pocket, you hadn't showered in a few days and you probably smelled but hey, you just think you saw God yesterday so, you're doing well for yourself. Still being alive and all that. 

You wrapped your fingers around the base of the window, pulling up slowly. Things felt easy, too easy. However, life was a funny and fickle thing. Your escapes didn't always have to be full of dramatic bloodshed and screaming! They could just be sneaking out of a murder shack and stealing a car. 

The window let out a high pitched squeak, as you opened it further to accommodate for your body. You whipped your head over your shoulder, Goober was still fast asleep. The thing that bothered you was that you couldn't hear Toby's snoring anymore.

"(Y/n)?" _Uh-oh._ You had to move and fast. You tore the rest of the window open, it shrieked at the sudden movement. The sound alerted Toby to your location, thundering footsteps approached the room as you slung one leg out the window.

Toby burst into the room, a wild look in his eyes, "You're truh-trying to leave?" You expected a feral rage, or sadistic glee at the idea of chasing you down like scared prey once more. Instead he sounded hurt, concerned, and a little exasperated but not surprised.

"Uhhh, no?" You said, one leg hanging out the window, a hand reaching for your clown shiv. 

"Just get buh-back inside." Toby stalked toward the bed, cautiously approaching as if any sudden movement would make you bolt. "I wuh-won't tell the oh-old man and Brian if you cuh-come back inside right now." You shifted your weight, slowly sliding yourself uncomfortably out the window. He smiled at you unevenly, "Cuh-come on! It can our little ssssuh-secret." His tone was playfully worried, he really didn't want you to go through with what you were about to do. He had a smile on his lips, but his eyebrows were knit together with concern. You didn't appreciate the proposition of a friendly secret between you two, like you were teenage best friends hiding the fact that you'd both gone through one of your parents liquor cabinets. 

You felt sorry for the boy before you, the kid clearly had issues and was roped into the murder gang under unclear circumstances. You both had been roped into this shit, but he'd somewhat accepted his horrible place in the world. You didn't want to, you were stubborn. You didn't want to live under the rule of the business twink. You wanted to be free, away from him and his proxies. You wanted to stop feeling pity, feeling like they had depth, and human emotion. You wanted to feel like a good person because a good person would never empathize or relate to them. Deep down though, you knew you stopped being a good person a long, long time ago. You were desperately holding onto your last shreds of an obvious delusion that you weren't that bad, that you weren't like them.

You clutched the clown in your pocket as he grew closer, his gloved hands up, open and pleading; trying to convince you to stay. You'd paused, lost in muddled thoughts for a moment too long. He lunged for you once he was within range to do so. With a shout you whipped the whittled down plastic from your pocket. Raising it over your head as Toby grew closer.

Bullseye. If you want to be more accurate, Toby's eye. You jammed the clown into his right eye, just liked you'd hoped for. It was luck honestly, that he jumped at you at the just the right angle so the clown buried itself into the soft tissue of his eyeball, you felt a wet crunch, like you had stuck a straw into a caprisun pouch. The plastic lining breaking with wet squelch, or in this case, the lens of Toby's right eye. 

_"I'm sorry, bitch!"_ You yelled out the apology on impulse, ripping your hand away as soon as you shoved it into him. Breaching the trust of a mentally ill sunnovabitch who'd saved you from the buzzing, comforting you after one of the worst experiences of your life, felt kinda bad. You had to add in the 'bitch', he killed people you knew after all. He killed the Baker siblings.

You felt bad, but you weren't like him. You weren't going to be its slave, you weren't going to give up and bend to its will. You were getting out of here. You were going to be a good person, living alone in the woods like a feral dog. Maybe eat a little garbage. You'd figure it out.

You threw yourself from the window the second the clown buried itself into Toby's eye, the boy barely recoiling, watching as you left with a pink clown sticking out of his now bloody right eye.

"Hey!" Toby protested as you fell awkwardly. He sounded only slightly miffed about the plastic crudely shoved into his eye, it didn't hurt him at all. It did fuck up his depth perception and you knew it'd be awkward for him to pursue you without the aid of a second eye. "Fucking rude!" Honestly, an underwhelming response to getting shanked in the eye with a clown shiv. You pushed away thoughts of how he must feel, being unsurprisingly stabbed by you, even after your bonding over being stuck in the same shitty boat. 

You hit the ground with a grunt, landing on one leg first before the rest of your body followed suit, piling all of your weight onto the poor thing. You did your best to ignored the aching leg as you scrambled to your feet, fist shoving itself into your pocket. You threw yourself forward, limping for a few steps before your leg figured itself out and worked in tandem with the other.

You ran alongside the wooden home, a cabin, as you pulled the mystery keys from your pocket. You hoped to god that they were for the mini-van and not for a safe or some shit. You whipped around the corner of the house, feet pounding against the supple green grass.

A single vehicle came into view. The mini-van was gone. Brian's motorcycle sat in the poor excuse for a driveway, comprised of crushed grass and dirt.

_"(Y/n)!"_ Toby's voice boomed from inside the cabin as you bolted for the motorcycle. You'd only seen people in movies operate them, you hoped the movies were accurate, also that you didn't crash and burn, scraping the scabs off your barely healing skin. 

You supposed the whole 'having one eye' thing wasn't going well for Toby as he hadn't burst out of the house yet. Must be hard to navigate with shit depth perception and little bit of emotional distress. You awkwardly threw a leg over the motorcycle's seat, it was large and bulky. You quickly located the ignition, jamming the keys into it and twisting. The vehicle roared to life as your foot that was still on the ground hit the kickstand with the back of your heel. 

The front door burst open, he must have had a key or some shit. Your hands flew to the bikes handles, curling your fingers around the grip. 

"Ssssuh-seriously?!" Toby exclaimed as you prepared for your escape attempt to go horribly or continue to go off without a hitch. You pushed your foot from the ground as you pulled the grip towards your body in a jerking twist. You didn't look to the door, to Toby, to the hell house. You looked to the heavily forested path ahead as the bike lunged forward with a mechanical growl. You'd overshot just how much twisting of the motorcycles handle needed to be done to get it to move forward. It wobbled under your inexperienced body, racing forward on the uneven path.

You only glanced in the mirror, located beside the throttle you clutched onto for dear life. As you shot forward, way too fast for your liking, Toby ran after the bike, clown removed from his eye. Blood streaked down his gash-less cheek in an angry red waterfall. You quickly returned your attention forward as the bike wobbled, your legs clutching onto it's sides, unsure where to put themselves.

It was like riding a big, scary as fuck, bike. One that could probably explode or crash, leaving your body too broken to run. A finger shakily peeled itself from the grip, wrapping around the brake handle and gingerly applying pressure. You felt like a teenager again, learning how to drive, learning the subtly of not braking too hard. You allowed the bike to slow from its initial break neck speed to one much more leisurely, like you were taking a casual ride through the woods, like Toby wasn't running as fast as his vision impaired ass could after you. They all might be super fast and super strong but they weren't as fast as a moving vehicle. 

"(Y/n)!" Toby called out once more from behind. You dared to look in the mirror once more, he was getting smaller behind you. You were getting away.

For once in your life, you didn't want to rub salt in his wounds. The kid seemed to have enough problems, seeing him breakdown before was horribly heartbreaking but also world bending. It was like that night with Dan, you didn't want to believe that he could cry, that he was just an asshole with no depth. But instead he was some broken kid and the fact that you could feel pity for him, to relate to the situation he was forced to contribute to, it made you sick. It also made you sad, for him, but more for yourself. You had to be awfully fucked up to sympathize with people like them. You needed professional help but you know there wasn't a hope in hell to get any.

You further slowed the bike as you approached a bend in the uneven path. You carefully began to turn the bikes handles, slowly turning it around the corner. The second you cleared the corner, you slowly began to twist the grip towards you once more, letting the motorcycle speed up. The entire time your eyes had been on the road directly below you or the controls to the bike and not up ahead. When you finally looked up you were starting to pass by a mini-van. There was no way anyone but the boys would be on this shitty forest road. Shit. You made brief shocked eye contact with Brian. Hearing Tim grumpily exclaim,"Oh for fucks sake!"

Panic took over, you twisted the grip even harder towards yourself, shooting yourself down the path at a dangerous speed.

"Don't crash!" You heard Brian lazily call out from the rolled down window behind you. He didn't even sound bothered or angry, just amused at the sight of you wobbly riding his motorcycle. Like he knew they'd catch up to you eventually. As you barreled down the path that shifted from gravel to old, broken, and unpaved road, you looked in the mirror once more. The mini-van had parked from where you'd passed it. Brian looking at you from the open window and Toby scrambling to open the side door.

Tim called out for you in an annoyed shout, "You know you're coming back right? It's either us or him!"

As the bike continued to lurch forward you screamed out, "Fuck off!" Did you feel bad for them? Yeah and it made you feel like a horrible person. You felt if you weren't at least a bit of an asshole that you were too friendly with the men who literally ruined your life. "Nobody's taking me anywhere! Suck my dick!"

You were speaking for yourself, you needed to feel like an asshole. You needed to be one to them so you could feel like a better person. You also still weren't over the whole 'murdering a bunch of people you know' thing. Your mind quickly reminded you that they had no choice in the matter and were just trying to live with themselves under the thumb of an eldritch twig. You pushed the thoughts away in violent denial, they still did the deed, they weren't blameless or innocent, they laughed and joked while tearing your life to shreds.

"You want me to do that then come back! Diner and a movie, baby!" Tim's voice grew quieter as you road further away, the roar of the motorcycle drowning out whatever other stupid shit he had to say. You couldn't bring yourself to care, you couldn't care about them anymore. You were going to get away.

They waited for Toby, letting you gain a massive amount of distance because they were so sure they'd get to you. They'd lost to you before because they were cocky. They were so sure, that your inexperience on the bike and the fact that you had no idea where you were or where the roads took you, would slow you down. They were leisurely about the whole thing because they were so sure of the fact that you'd join them.

You'd show them all. You'd done a lot of things you'd never done before and had been somewhat fine. Before that night at the cabin you'd never thrown a grown man off a moving truck but lo and behold, you did it with flying colors.

The motorcycle had actually begun to smooth out as the road changed from the decrepit country roads to normal asphalt, there were now painted lines for the lanes. It was still pretty shitty, full of potholes and cracks but it was definitely better than the earlier terrain. You had the need for speed, the need to get away, but you had to drive carefully or you'd be roadkill. You looked on ahead, keeping your eyes peeled for dips and bumps in the road and for somewhere else to go. Going straight ahead would just have them catching up to you real quick. You needed some sort of detour or a fork in the road. Something to make them question themselves, something to make them lose you.

Your prayers were answered by a three way split of roads up ahead. They all looked the same. You glanced in the mirror as you and the motorcycle sped towards the fork in the road. You couldn't see the mini-van anymore. A bitter thought jabbed at you, they were probably going slow to avoid the potholes, taking their sweet ass time. They had no faith in you on the motorcycle, you wouldn't either but still, rude. You choose the rightmost path, making a wide turn around a scarily deep pothole in the road as you did so. You just hoped they wouldn't choose the right path first, you hoped Brian didn't know you that well. If he choose the path, it'd be dumb luck or he knew every little intricacy of your thought process and you didn't care for that shit at all.

A thought prodded at the back of your mind, motorcycles are loud. All of the roads started off in the same direction though, maybe they wouldn't be able to pinpoint your location by sound? Either way, it sent anxious shivers down your spine. You didn't care to make the bike go faster, even as the road began to clear up. It looked more like an unmanaged county road now, which it probably was. Weren't taxes supposed to fix this kinda shit? Did the boys pay taxes for their murder house?

You shook off the thoughts with a quick shake of your head as you barreled ahead, periodically looking in the mirror. Nothing. Eyes once again back on the road ahead you saw an odd sight a couple hundred feet ahead. A lanky man in a eye bleeding green crop top and red short-shorts. You squinted, the figure growing closer. Who the fuck was all the way out here and why? 

His head snapped towards you, hearing the incoming engine of the motorcycle. One hand rest on his hip while the other held out a thumb to the road. A hitchhiker all the way in butt-fuck nowhere. As you grew closer, a finger hovered above the brake but didn't push down. You'd feel bad but whatever stranger it was would have to catch a ride with someone else. Then it hit you, the only other someone else around was the men. Would they really just kill some random guy though? They seemed to not really want to murder in the first place, but had accepted their fucked up place in the world to the point where murder was just a fact of life to them. They killed your neighbor, they killed Emile when they weren't targets. Although, those were jabs to get at you, maybe the stranger was safe. 

As you approached the man shouted out a, "Hey! Over here!" You knew that voice, you knew that bleached blonde hair. You shouldn't stop if you knew him, they'd kill his ass. There was the anxiety inducing possibility of them stopping, pulling over to kill the guy because they'd recognize him as some passing acquaintance from your life. If they caught you again and he was dead, would the blood be on your hands? Would they even kill him in the first place? Did they want to psychologically torment you like that anymore? You didn't fucking know. 

You knew one thing for sure, you were glad to see a familiar, friendly face. A smile that you felt like you hadn't seen in a lifetime. You slowly pressed on the brake. For a second you thought to yourself that you finally weren't alone in the world. You had company. Then it quickly reminded you of your circumstances, of the seemingly good chance of you becoming a proxy, that you'd never be alone because the men understood the shitty situation you were in. You were all in it together. 

You pushed you the thoughts away, you just wanted to be a good person. Reminders that you were a deeply broken person, somewhat one of them, a double murderer, just told you how horrible you were. You could find company in other people, you could get better, you were better than them. 

Rolling to a stop, you kicked out a leg to awkwardly balance the bike as it stood at a standstill. It was difficult, the bike putting a good bit of weight on your leg. 

"Doug?" You breathed out, feet away from the diner regular. 

"(Y/n)?" Doug blinked at you with wide eyes, taking in your appearance. Dirty clothes with blood around your sweaters neckline, a black eye, a hand-print on your throat. "Holy shit. Are you okay?" He pushed the words out carefully. "You look like hell." He began to approach the motorcycle, quietly accepting your offer for a ride.

"No." You flatly responded, "Actually," You bitterly laughed as he easily mounted bike, sitting behind you,"Just crawled out." He put his hands on your sides. You cringed at the touch, you hardly knew Doug. Then again, you hardly knew the men and just earlier you were sleeping on one of their laps.

You were being selfish by pulling over, by pulling Doug into your crumbling world, you thought to yourself. You also thought that you deserved to be selfish. Even for a few moments. You just wanted friendly and familiar company that hadn't killed people you knew. You wanted to feel just a little bit normal.

You hoped you could keep the bike balanced with a second passenger. You reminded yourself of how adaptable you'd proven yourself to be. You slowly twisted the grip towards your body, lifting your foot from the ground. Your leg cried in relief as the bike slowly wobbled forwards. Letting out a shuddering breath as your muscles tensed, you shifted about trying to get used to balancing on the bike with a passenger. Doug stayed quiet while you took a few moments of slowly rolling forward, the bike dangerously shifting back and forth, it shifted less and less as you continued on. It somewhat steadied itself, you pulled the grip, allowing the bike to pick up speed.

"So," Doug slowly and awkwardly rolled the word off his tongue as you drove blindly ahead, "What's up with you, bud?"

You suddenly remembered that your screaming face was on the news. You were wanted for murder. Did he know? Was he scared of you? "Oh ya'know." You breathed out, wind whipping through your hair, a few loose strands of (h/c) hair blowing annoyingly into your face. "Life." 

He hummed in response. Your turn to ask a question, "Where'd you go?" You asked hollowly. Thinking about how he was a part of a half-baked plan to escape the men and he hadn't made an appearance so you couldn't buy a probably stolen car off of him. You weren't too bitter about it, you honestly doubted it would have made a difference at all. A pessimistic part of you telling you they'd always find you, no matter what, it was only a matter of time til they found you and Doug. "Also," You blurted out, "Where the fuck are we?"

Doug let out a breathy chuckle, one of his hands leaving your side, "Been on a fat ass bender," You glanced in the mirror to find that he was on his phone, "Fort Payne, Alabama, by the by."

With an exasperated sigh at the information, not him being on a bender, that was just Doug, it was the fact that you were back. You didn't appreciate being back in Alabama of all places. Alabama seemed like a hub for murder bullshit, you were becoming less of a fan.

You pulled your lips into a tight line, changing the subject, "That's not safe, being on your phone." You said, while driving a motorcycle for the first time.

"Honey," He chuckled behind you, "I'm a crack addict." 

"Oh, right." You'd kinda forgotten about that, being chased and kidnapped makes you forget the little things. You didn't exactly know how else to respond to that, so you kept your mouth shut. Just appreciating someone back in your life who hadn't done bodily harm to you at some point.

"Hey, wanna go to Denny's?" He proposed out of nowhere.

"I don't where that is." You huffed with a small smile, you could go for some cheap breakfast food. Then again, you were wanted for murder. You were on your way out of Alabama, to anywhere else. You wanted a few more minutes of friendly human contact before you gave it up to live as a hermit. You'd done some terrible things, the very least you could do before disappearing into obscurity is drop some lost crack addict off at Denny's. "You got Google Maps on that thing?" You glanced once more in the rear view mirror, no mini-van. Only Doug on his phone, somehow holding onto you just fine with one hand.

"Yea! One sec!" His thumb tapped away at the phone screen a few moments,"'kay so, you're gonna wanna-" He droned out the directions. You wondered how he got signal all the way out there. You wondered how the fuck he even got here, in the middle of nowhere, close to a murder shack. Then again, you can end up anywhere after a long bender. A paranoid part of you told you that it was a little too convenient, everything that'd happened so far. The easy escape, finding a familiar face close by, something had to be up. What if it was the work of the twig? You violently pushed the thoughts away in a stupid act of denial.

The Denny's was a forty-five minute ride through country back roads and odd detours. You idly chit-chat, Doug mostly chattering away while you listened. He'd yet to bring up the fact that you were wanted for murder, you assumed during his entire bender he hadn't seen the news. He could just be terrified of you, accepting the ride because he needed it so badly, and being glad you hadn't murdered him yet. You had no intentions of doing so.

It was nice. Hearing about the idle drama in Doug's life, driving away from your shitty old one. The entire ride you checked the mirrors, looking behind the motorcycle, all you saw was Doug on his phone and empty roads. You'd actually gotten used to the motorcycle, somewhat. Every little bump in the road made you jump, winding roads full of sharp turns were a challenge. You made it anyway. You made it to the empty Denny's parking lot.

You rolled the bike to an uneasy stop, kicking your leg onto the ground to support the bikes weight once it stopped. 

"Come on!" Doug threw himself off the bike, still glued to his phone. "Lets eat!" He had to be on something still because the parking lot was very empty. He idly padded towards the building before turning to you, noticing you weren't following.

The inside of the restaurant was vacant. 

"Uhm." You readjusted your sweaty palms on the bikes handle bars. Your leg was starting to ache, supporting the unfamiliar weight for so long. Deciding to give yourself a well deserved break, you swung your other leg off of the bike, supporting the bikes weight before using your feet to bring out the kickstand. Your hips were fucking killing you, having to spread your legs so widely and awkwardly for so long. "There's no one here." You observed aloud, stretching your legs. "Also, I gotta go, it's been nice but-"

"Whaaaaaaaat?" Doug whined out, sounding like an upset teenager. "But we just got here!" He gestured to the empty restaurant. 

You just cocked a brow at him, "No one's in there. I have to go anyway." You idly rubbed your hip creases, they ached but you'd live if you rode the motorcycle til it ran out of gas. Maybe you could steal gas or something? Wheels were good, a faster way to get the fuck out of dodge.

"Come on!" He urged once more, a suspicious desperation in his voice, "How about we just hang out for a little?" 

You'd been around terrible men for quite awhile. You get used to the look in someones eye when they wanna do something to you, something bad. You should have just hopped back on the motorcycle and rode away. There was something that you couldn't resist, something that you couldn't just back down and run away from. That look in his eyes was trouble, and all you'd had the past few days of your life was trouble. If luck was on your side once more, you could make him back off. For once be in control of a situation, for once not have to run and hide. 

Instead you inched a hand towards the bikes saddle bag that hung lazily off of its side. "I really don't have the time." You insisted, grabbing the cool metal zipper, slowly opening the bag. What the fuck were you doing? You should just leave. But you couldn't. You couldn't just back away from some druggie twink after everything you'd been though. It wasn't like you were like them, you wouldn't kill him if worse came to worse. You'd just make him leave you the fuck alone, scare him away for good.

"Are you suuuure?" The question sounded more like a challenge than a friend asking for you to hang out for a while. 

You grit your teeth, you were so fucking tired of always being challenged. You told yourself to calm down, it was nothing. However at the diner you told yourself everything was fine and it clearly wasn't. You shouldn't doubt yourself. Your suspicion, your paranoia, everything had been true. This had to be the same.

"Yeah." You flatly responded, staring the blonde down, hand slipping into the bag. You begged it to give you something, anything, to work with if this skinny crackhead tried you. Part of you wanted him to just back down from his suspicious behavior, you two had a history, a shallow but pleasant one. The other part of you was begging him to try something. You'd put him in his place, it'd probably be cathartic after being constantly picked on by motherfuckers bigger and stronger than you. Sure, he was taller and a literal crackhead but you were at this point, a seasoned underdog. 

"Look friend," Doug reached a hand into the pocket of his shorts, "I ain't in a position to let a prize like you go." He whipped a metal handle from his pocket with a ' _fwip'_ the shiny steel of a blade extended from the handle. 

Your hand grabbed the first thing your fingers brushed against. It was a thick thing with a firm plastic grip. You whipped it from the saddle bag and for what felt like the hundredth ' _deus ex machina'_ of the day. You presented a blade as well, serrated and longer than your hand. A hunting knife. It was too much, everything was falling into place so easily. The perfect window of escape, Brian leaving his keys, finding Doug, getting off the bike to stretch, everything fell so easily into your lap. You think it wanted you to kill Doug. The way they described the thing, the way you'd already experienced it, it wasn't out of the realm of possibility. It wanted to see if you could follow directions, if you could stomach the thought of hurting another person. If you would take advantage of the situation .

It knew how you felt. It knew how powerless its proxies made you feel, it knew you just wanted an upper hand on something in the form of violent retribution. It wanted you to kill again, seemingly of your own will. It was setting you up, that just had to be it.

You had to leave, you had to turn your back on what it wanted and ride into the sunset. Part of you really, really wanted to stay, put Doug in his place. You had a vague idea of what he was doing, thinking that you were a golden opportunity that fell into his lap. Turn you in for a quick cash grab, get paid and not give a shit that he knew you. Not repay all your kindnesses of free drinks and talking afternoons away. Fucking dickhead.

It, **he** , knew what it was doing. It was testing you, to see if you'd kill in circumstances where it wasn't completely controlling your mind, the only buzzing in your body was from the adrenaline coursing through your veins. Where you didn't have teenage love to kill for someone else. It wanted you to kill, it wanted you to believe it was for yourself, take pleasure in it. You wouldn't let that happen.

"Doug." You pointed your knife at him, a hollow threat, "I'm going to get on this fucking motorcycle and leave." You took a step forward, standing besides the bikes seat. "I'm disappointed in you." You continued, raising a leg to wrap it around the bike once more. "I thought you were cool." Your leg wrapped around the bike, you'd left the engine running.

You didn't expect your day to go like this. A lanky crackhead suddenly running at you with knife while you desperately flicked the kickstand back, holding a knife awkwardly, some fingers holding its grip while the others grabbed the bikes handles. 

For once that day, things did _not_ go your way. Before you could pull the handlebar towards yourself to propel your self away from the situation, there was a fucking knife buried in your right upper thigh. You vaguely recalled that night, getting shot in the leg then promptly breaking it. It reminded you of the men, it also didn't help that he stabbed you. When someone stabs you and you have a knife, you stab back.

If this happened a few month ago, you would have ran away screaming, tears running down your face pathetically. This was now though, and you were so tired of being pushed around. You threw yourself from from bike with a scream. The thing about getting stabbed is that your body goes into immediate shock, you just know there's something embedded in your flesh but you can't feel it; can't feel anything but the warm blood gushing out of the wound.

You stumbled from the motorcycle as it crashed to the pavement beside you, no leg or kickstand to hold it up. There was no way in hell you'd be able to get it off the ground with a knife in your leg and a money hungry crackhead reaching for the knife. That was fine, you were kinda miffed about the knife in your leg and the metaphorical one in your back. If he wanted to stab you to keep you there so whoever the fuck he was texting could come pick your wanted ass up, then you'd stay and give him a good ole stabbing. 

You realized that it wanted you to kill, to maim, but it wanted to you to kill when you believed you free of its influence. Your semi-rational brain told you that if you retaliated now that it be for _you_ not it. You knew that wasn't true, but the thought made you feel better. 

Doug greedily reached out for the knife in your leg once more. You threw your right leg up, your lower leg smashing into his dick. He stumbled back with a groan of pain, yet not falling to the asphalt, he was stronger than you thought he'd be. As you'd moved your leg you felt the tickle of blood seeping down your leg, soaking the fabric of your sweats.

You could have ran, but that was the old you. You were going to fight Doug because you fucking could, because you were so goddamn tired of being pushed around, because you wanted to feel power over another human being even if its for one masochistically regretful second.

He had already recovering from the shot to the groin with a, _"You think that does shit?! I get my balls stomped on every other day!"_

" _Whatever shit-dick!"_ You snarled out the half baked insult, using your good leg to lunge forth. You didn't really aim the knife at anything in particular, you were just looking to shove it into his body like he was a fleshy knife block. His arm swung forward, without it you would have jammed the blade straight through his eye, just like you'd done to Toby.

You felt worse about stabbing Toby then you did Doug. Toby had to be in his situation, he had to do what he had to do to keep it together. Doug was just going to throw you aside for money. You understood. You fucking understood. You felt an angry snarl rip its way through your throat.

Instead, the knife pierced Doug's protective arm. You think it was the sheer rage of constantly being cornered and also being stabbed in the leg, that gave you the hysterical strength to shove the knife through his forearm. Only slowing down as the knife made contact with his bone before quickly slicing around it and out of his skin.

He jerked the knifes grip from your hand with a scream, recoiling and stumbling back. " _What the fuck!?"_

You wanted to keep going, you wanted to put more holes in him, you wanted to pour all of your violent rage into something that could die. You wanted to be in control. You advanced as Doug reveled at the knife jammed through his forearm, poking out one side and peaking out the other, his eyes wide. You swung your dominant hand down to your right leg. With a teeth-bearing animialistic grunt, you pulled on the blade. Its slick red blade ripped from the slit in your leg, a deep river of red springing forth. No longer blocked by the dam of the knife. You felt nothing but a smile line your lips. 

Seeing your advance, Doug made a move you would have made months ago. Turn around and run. The thing about Denny's parking lots, is that they didn't always have the best upkeep. All it was, was the slightly uneven ground that sent him face first into the asphalt. You threw your self downwards, knife over your head, plummeting down with your body. You buried the knife that was just in your leg into the center of his left calf.

_"Fuck!"_ He screamed as you pointed the blade towards yourself inside of his muscle. You dug your feet into the ground, throwing one hand over the other on the knifes grip. You used all of your body weight to pull Doug backwards, beneath your feet. Screaming as you lifted the blade, shaking his leg off of it, letting it slap wetly onto the pavement.

Doug stupidly turned on his side as you fell to your knees, one on either side of his torso. He was facing you now screaming and thrashing his arms about. You dropped yourself onto his upper thighs as a hand threw itself onto your face, trying to push you away. You opened your maw, quickly bringing down your teeth onto his salty skin. You dug your teeth into his flesh, growling as you refused to let go. It just made you angrier, not only he have to stab you but he had to shove his disgusting hand into your face. Practically begging you to bite him, to punish him for trying to fight back.

You brought the knife above your head, a screaming man beneath you, his hand in your mouth, blood seeping into your mouth. It tasted like catharsis. It tasted like sickening victory, dizzying dopamine filled victory that you knew you would regret. You screamed, muffled by his hand as you threw the bloodied blade into his chest. Cutting the lower part of his crop top, the knife sinking easily into the belly, just below his sternum. His screams grew guttural as you leaned forward only to throw yourself back, using your body weight to add more power to the slice that traveled down his stomach. It was like your blade was a zipper, opening his chest when it was run down his flesh. You were parting the red sea, you were setting yourself free. 

His body convulsed, quaking beneath you, strangled guttural cries leaving his lips as he tried to struggle. You both knew it was pointless. With every little shake more, red pushed itself forth from the deep gash, seeping out and oozing over your hands, puddling on the asphalt beneath you. You looked into his growing hole, entranced by the red flowing forth. The cut was like a red window into a pink network of pulsating and oozing insides. You could see so much of it, his insides, he was wearing a crop top, the lack of fabric not shielding your gaze from his sliced open belly.

As you watched him bleed, as you watched his insides spasm, you released your grip on the blade that had stopped all movement a few inches above his hips. You just sat there, heaving and angry. You felt good, you felt alive. You felt like you'd just had the best cry of your life but instead of having a cathartic cry, you gutted a man who used to be a regular at your old place of work. 

You got it, you really did. That thing made the men do its dirty work, they had to, they were pushed around, made to feel weak and powerless. So when given the chance to take their anger out, they took it. You looked at your bloodied hands with a dry laugh, shaking your head. Their targets were doomed to die anyway. Why not fuck with them and release the beast? Why not use the soon to be dead to feel better about yourself, the one who'd keep on living. Mental state somewhat upheld by a mountain of horrified corpses.

You got it but you weren't happy about it. You got it because of how fucked up you were, because you were a bad person, because you just killed a man when you could have made a run for it. You were too bullheaded to give in and now the guts of a crackhead lay in his belly, exposed before you. Your bloody hands shook, your eyes burned with hot tears. You finally understood them, but at what cost?

A ragged breath hitched in your throat as a firm hand placed itself on your shoulder. You didn't need to turn around to see who it was. You may not have done the deed like it wanted you to, thinking it was without his influence but you still did it. You were just like them, without the title of proxy. 

The adrenaline was starting to wear thin in your veins. You didn't fight the hands that lifted you by the back of your legs and side, they weren't filled with malice like any other time the man had touched you. There was pity in the touch, there was a solidarity that made your stomach churn, he understood what just happened. Holding you in what could be seen as a sweet bridal carry was Brian. You placed a hand on his chest, watching the blood from your fingers mix and spread through the white fabric of his shirt. 

You didn't have anything to say. All you could do was look wide eyed at the man who held your blood soaked form. He was moving, you knew it was towards the mini-van. You knew you were going back with them. To continue living with them, to continue being considered. There was no getting away, you felt your hand clench in his t-shirt, a quiet sob catching in your throat. That thing let you out to experiment on you, there was no luck for you. All you had left was your body that was growing weak from blood loss, and your frenemies of captors. Did they even count as captors anymore when you had nowhere to go? When they themselves were prisoners? When there was no one else on the planet who you could relate to on such a deeply fucked up level? You didn't think there was. 

_"Lets go home."_


	24. 23 - Conflicting Feelings and Thirsty Texts

**Content Warning: NSFW mentions, second-hand embarrassment**

The ride home was surprisingly uneventful, but that's probably because you passed out due to blood loss like ten minutes into it. The thing about getting a knife jammed into your thigh, is that that bad boys gotta lot of blood in it. In your state of rage, with a need for bloody catharsis, you tore the knife out of your leg and let yourself bleed. One thing many people know is that if you stabbed and the knife is still in you, don't pull it out. The blade acts as a dam, it may have done the initial damage but it holds back quite a lot of bleeding. You completely disregarded that in the moment, the second you pulled the blade from your thigh, you were on borrowed time. You were no doctor, but you knew there were some major arteries in your thigh, if Doug hit one you could have been a goner. 

You found yourself not wanting to die. You'd taken three lives in the course of your one; you didn't deserve to continue on your pathetic excuse for an existence but you wanted to because you fucking earned it. Though hell and back, through dead childhood bullies, through a dead kinda ex, through being kidnapped, through knowing that things could only get worse, you wanted to live. It was selfish and you knew it. You rationalized it with the thought that you'd fought tooth and nail to have made it this far, to be on the doorstep of an eldritch entity who'd only make things worse. You'd consider yourself a masochist at this point because you wanted to live on, even if it meant becoming a puppet. You hated yourself for it, for being so selfish to want to live but you knew you wouldn't lay down and die, because you didn't know how to.

Before anything else, you smelled yourself, that's what woke you up. You smelled of blood and sweat, a strong odor. With the putrid, yet horribly familiar scent, came back the memories. The knife in your hand, it buried into Doug's arm, pulling another from your leg, the unzipping of flesh. The understanding, the dread that came with knowing that they were the only people who'd ever understand, the halfhearted acceptance sourly because you couldn't go on without human contact. Then you felt the pain.

Your eyes snapped open to see the white ceiling, you knew instantly you were back in the living room. Your vision was hazy at first, your eyes not focusing in tandem with one another. You vision comprised of two semi-overlapping images of the ceiling above that slowly melted into one as you blinked away the dizzying sensation. 

" _What the fuck!?"_ Was the first thing you could say as the hot throbbing on your leg took over your thought process. It was bad, the feeling of your wound throbbing, trying to slowly mend itself. 

"Good to see that you're awake." Your wide eyes shot to Brain. He was sat on the coffee table, sleeves rolled up and bloody bandages curled around his hand.

It took you a moment to process that you were laying on the couch. You looked up to the man who regarded you with mild emotion, more than you were used to. There was the slightest furrowing of his brows and a small smiling hinting at the corners of his lips, he looked genuinely worried about you. 

You pressed your forearms that laid at your sides into the cushion, peeling yourself up with a grunt. You only got a glimpse of your leg before Brian placed a hand on your chest and pushed you back into the couch softly.

There were a lot of things you could be upset about right now, you'd just killed a man to feel better about yourself, making you no better then the men who killed those around you. You were upset over that but you wanted to feel normal, like you hadn't just murdered a man.

" _You cut my fucking pants?"_ You were referring to the fact that your right leg wasn't clothed at all, right below the hip one of them had torn the fabric off of your leg.

Brian let out an amused huff under your accusatory yes weak and angry gaze, his own gaze lowering back to your leg, "Easier to treat you without anything in the way." You were tempted to push yourself up once more, get a better look at your leg but Brian probably knew what was best. As much as you hated to admit it, you recalled his threat of being able to stitch you back together after he'd rip you to shreds. You'd never thought he'd be stitching up someone else's work, someone who wasn't his companions. 

You just wanted to feel normal, which made you feel less normal because you were so completely fucked that normalcy was a commodity. "Yeah but," You gestured a hand towards your nude leg, "I can't wear these anymore." You were surprised, it hurt but not as much as you thought it would. Was getting stabbed an overrated experience? Then again, Brian probably stitched the wound closed and numbed the pain with something. 

"You can still wear them." Brian looked down at you quizzically, you rose your brows at the man. 

"You think I'm just gonna wear pants with only one leg? Am I a barbarian to you?" You genuinely couldn't believe the casual suggestion. It sounded like he wasn't even joking, but then again you knew he was an excellent actor. You knew that from bitter experience. 

You didn't forget about your leg, the murder you'd committed, your lightheadedness. You just wanted to pretend to be normal with Brian for a moment, he played along probably because he knew how hopelessly fucked you'd fully realized yourself to be.

He clicked his tongue, "Well, I mean." He breathily laughed, a low rumbling chuckle, "You're something alright." If this was back at the diner, you would have blushed, thinking him to be flirting with you. This was in the murder house though and you'd just stolen his motorcycle and killed a man, you really were something. 

"I am _not_ sorry about stealing your motorcycle." You admitted with the smuggest smirk you could muster. Feeling unsurprisingly weak from blood loss. You wondered how long you were out, if you came close to dying. 

Brian smiled sweetly but there was a gleam in his eye that didn't suggest violence but something deeply mischievous, "Don't worry!" He chirped before his voice dropped to a husky murmur, _"You will."_

"Excuse me?!" You barked, you may have been weak from blood loss but if Brian wanted to square up then and there you'd fight and then pathetically lose. You'd try though!

"(Y/n)'s awake!" You heard Toby chirp from the kitchen, followed a chorus of footfalls.

"Uh-uh kid, you're still helping me with diner!" You heard Tim call out from the kitchen, footsteps squeaking. Was he physically holding Toby back from seeing you? Was he upset with you? Were they all? 

"She has to shower anyways." Brian acted like his earlier comment hadn't happened as he bent down, sliding an arm under your shoulder blades. You did, but you wish he didn't say it like that, while looking at you with a smug smirk. He was quietly saying that you smelled bad. Shady bitch. "You can talk over diner." He slid another arm below your knees.

"If I can shower, doesn't that mean I can walk to the bathroom?" You asked with tight lips. You got it if he wanted you to stay off of your leg but showering was an activity you did while standing on said leg. 

"You could," He dragged you off of the couch, effortlessly standing up with you in his arms, "But it's best that you don't walk on it much. It's still good to get a bit of activity in though." With being lifted you could see your legs, one clothed, one exposed. Your right thigh had a large square bandage slapped onto it, clean. Before you'd woke he'd probably changed your bandages, you again wondered how long you were unconscious. He made his way towards the hall, you overheard petty bickering from the other men in the kitchen. 

You didn't want to be carried around but you'd take it over reopening your deep wound.

"You sure I can stand?" You asked the man as he pushed open the bathroom door. You felt kinda okay for loosing a lot of blood, only kinda. You were still afraid to put the slightest weight upon your leg, fearing if you did it'd give out beneath you.

"You should be able to." He idly responded, flicking on the light with his elbow. You saw a heap of fabric on the counter top, you didn't get to focus on it as Brian began to set you down before the shower curtain.

"Ah!" Your good leg hit the ground, you bent your right knee back, still to afraid to put weight on it. "Are you sure?!" Your voice came out as a panicked squeak as your hands flew up to clutch the arm that was once supporting your back. Just a bit ironic when in the arms of a man who could crush your skull in his bare hands. 

Brian didn't hide the softly amused huff from his nose, a small smile spreading over his lips. In your panic over wanting to preserve your leg, you forgot a moment how terrified you were of Brian. Your eyes shot to your hands, clutching onto his exposed forearm. With a short gasp of realization, you released him, hands flying away like his skin had burnt you. Despite the fact that he'd stitched you up and probably just saved your life, you were still somewhat revolted by his touch. Mostly because of how easily you found yourself accepting it. It was more you realizing how fucked you were, realizing that you needed human touch, validation, and solidarity to get through your shitty situation. You still thought of how he crushed Emile's skull against the counter top, dangling the screaming teenager by the hair before Toby slit his throat. You knew what he was capable of, the horrible things he'd done and you could fucking relate to spitefully killing someone you didn't have to. Touching him was a grim reminder that you were a terrible person who was only getting worse by accepting it so easily.

Without the support of Brian and refusing to put your right leg on the floor, you began to wobble forward. "Shit, shit, shit." There was nothing before you other than the shower curtain, you were going to fall. Two hands grabbed you by your upper arms, pulling you back. 

"You'll be fine." Brian informed from behind, gently steadying you, his breath shifting you hair slightly. The last time you were in the bathroom together, he held you by the throat. Touch full of malice now full of pity. You were something to look after before, a dog that constantly acted up. Now you were an unofficial member of their little posse, with the shared trauma of the twig showing up and the cathartic slaying of Crackhead Doug. You didn't doubt for a second they still resented the hell out of you for all the trouble you gave them, mainly setting Tim's face on fire, sending Toby into a panic attack, and pushing Brian off the back of a pick up truck. It went both ways, the mutual distaste but the solidarity, the pity.

You felt your chest tighten, right knee shaking while the heated throbbing of your wound made you doubt the idea of standing on the leg even more. The fucked up part of you spoke, the part that knew that Brian wasn't going to let you fall, because he'd been in your situation. New into the upside-down world under The Operators influence. The part of you that completely trusted him spoke, "Okay."

He kept his hands on your arms, holding your shaking form steady as you inched your right foot to the floor. You prepared for the worst, for your leg to suddenly stop working under you, to crash your skull into the tile below. With a shuddering breath you placed your foot onto the cold tile. You kept all of your weight on your left leg a few moments, building up the courage to shift some weight onto your other leg. With brows furrowed and jaw clenched you shifted to the right.

The sudden use of the torn muscle was a bit jarring. The wound shifting ever so slightly, there was a dulled ache but nothing more. Your legs still shook unconfidently though as you held your hands to your sides in an unnecessary act to steady yourself in case you fell. Breath hitched in your throat as Brian slowly lifted his hands from your arms, you were still alarmed at the idea of falling. Your first internal thought was to tell him not to let go but you silenced the thought, you didn't need anymore help. You also didn't want him getting smug about it. 

As Brian stepped back, letting you stand stiffly on your own, you were at internal war with yourself. Part of you still feebly thought yourself as a captive but the rational part of you knew you weren't. If given the chance to leave you wouldn't because you needed people in your life who understood you. You needed human interaction, you didn't want to go through pain and misery alone anymore, you couldn't handle it. You were strong and independent, that was always true but you still needed someone to lean on from time to time. Nobody can go at it alone, especially when a supernatural twink man is actively tormenting you.

"I'll be right outside if you need help." Brian bluntly stated, quietly padding out the the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. It was a much different exit to the one that night. Instead of a kindly worded threat it was a legitimate comfort, he was keenly aware of your situation, your terror, the high possibility that you'd soon be one of them. You felt comforted by the thought that he'd be listening, he could rush to your aid if you fell. Though you'd try your best not to, you didn't want him having to come to your aid while you were in the nude. 

With a sigh, you reached a hand through the curtain, anxious to shift your weight. You persevered anyway, as you always did. You pulled on the shower handle, then turned it to the right. A jet of water steamed forth from the shower head, you pulled back. The wound dully throbbing with your shifting weight. 

Undressing seemed like it'd be a challenge but it was more relieving than anything. Peeling the blood soaked clothing from your sweaty skin had a feeling akin to taking your bra off after a long day. Instead of supporting your titties, your clothes were a visual confirmation of your heinous sins that you wanted off of your skin. You felt more free without them but you were still guilty, you still remembered his screaming, the rush of dopamine from 'winning'.

Free of clothing, you took a shaky step forth towards the inside of the shower. You placed a hand on the showers wall, pulling some weight into it, you trusted yourself not to fall but it was more of a precaution than anything. Once you were under the blast of water, you turned towards it, face up. Letting the water re-wet the dried blood upon your face, you knew you'd have to scrub it off with your grubby hands. You smelled of wet dog as the blood and water met upon your skin. 

You turned your head opening your eyes, grabbing your body wash. It was noticeably lighter than the last time you'd used it. You felt less violated and more annoyed, a little annoyed they'd done it at first to get at you but you knew you were nothing but a reprieve to them before. Now, they were like your shitty roommates, using your body wash without your permission. With an annoyed grunt you put some of the soap into your gritty hand and got to work.

You'd never be free of the metaphorical blood on your hands, but Doug's actual blood was easier to clean off than expected. It took a bit of scrubbing but it quickly flaked away in wet chunks, spinning in loose circles before disappearing down the drain. Scrubbing the blood away only reminded you of your guilt, it was there because of your crimes. It was there because you needed blood on your hands, a pulse slowing down under your grip. You needed Doug to die. 

You were thankful in a way. Him stabbing you made it feel more justified, but you knew killing him wasn't acceptable in the slightest. Either way, as disgusting and horrible of a person it made you, you felt relief. You felt like things were starting to be somewhat okay. The men were starting to feel bad for you after The Operator's visit, the bonding over trauma really sinking the idea into them that you'd soon be one of them. With Doug's death and their retrieval of your bleeding body, their cruel outer shells only seemed to fall away more. Both sides understood one another, they were accepting of the idea of another poor sonnovabitch joining them and you were accepting the solace in having people, living people, who you could talk and relate to. Another person to feel solidarity with, another person that understood, a whole other life, a new personality added to the party, a bit more spice to their fucked up lives. With Doug's death, with your further mental decline, you were comforted by the fact that you'd be in misery with company that you could stand to be around, somewhat.

If you'd rode passed Doug, you knew you would have been caught, somewhere, somehow. They'd still pity you but there wouldn't be as deep of a connection, as deep of an understanding. Doug provided a moment of needed power for you as well as understanding. Killing him also showed you how hopelessly fucked you where, that you couldn't be trusted in the world, out on your own and fucking bat shit crazy. You needed to be here for the good of the public and for yourself. Guilt and belonging went hand in hand.

You stepped out of the shower with a sigh, trying to think of more important things. You were clean and annoyed by how light your shampoo and conditioner bottles were. They had short hair, did they really need to use that much? Either way, you reluctantly dried yourself off, being careful not to put too much weight onto your leg. Brian must have planned for you to bathe when you awoke because there was a heap of your unfolded clothing on the counter top. Still a bit creeped out that he touched your stuff, clothes especially, you cringed and hobbled forward. 

You threw on your underwear before tackling the (f/c) heap of fabric that you'd yet to inspect. Since Brian had shoved random clothing into your suitcase, you didn't really know what to expect. First there was a pair of black shorts, made of a soft and thin fabric, they didn't cover much and didn't even come close to the bandage. You stepped through the holes of the shorts one leg at a time before snatching the solid colored (f/c) fabric. You were expecting a normal shirt or sweater but instead you got a wrinkled dress that you'd stuffed into the back of your closet and hadn't worn in years. You threw it on over your head, pulling your arms through the short sleeves. It was a loose fitting t-shirt dress, it made you look like a long (f/c) rectangle but you were a cute long rectangle.

Brian really did think ahead, the dresses hemline stopped short halfway over the bandage. He had easy access to your wound and wouldn't have to butcher your other clothing. You supposed he gave to the shorts as a precaution, not wanting to see anything on accident, surprisingly thoughtful of him. You also guessed that he gave you the dress to feel a bit more covered, as the shorts themselves barley came down passed your ass. Again, thoughtful of him. 

You bunched up your filthy clothing, scrunching your nose at the scent and hobbled towards the door. Brian opened it before you could do it yourself. Still weird like the last time, but you appreciated it nonetheless. Before you could say anything he was picking you up once again.

"Didn't you say I should walk or something?" You questioned, having just murdered a man, you could handle a short walk to the living room.

"Only a little." Brian flatly responded, the both of you heading for the living room. You just went with it, him carrying you honestly felt like babying when you knew you could awkwardly walk. It was just him being careful which was a major step up from holding a gun to your leg like he had the other day. How quickly things change when you bond over being hopeless murderers.

"Toby fucked up diner again. Its cereal again tonight." Tim laughed from the kitchen as Brian brought you towards your suitcase, which was still leaning on the living room wall. He let you throw your dirty clothes upon it while you wondered where they did their laundry. Did one of their rooms have a washing machine or what?

"It's nuh-not just my fuh-fault!" Toby whined as Brian set you down in the middle of the couch. As you readjusted yourself, Brian sat at the far right end, leaning onto the armrest with an amused sigh. It was nice, sitting on the couch without fearing for your life. It was still jarring though, how somewhat okay you were with this. You resented all of them but you felt horrible for them, you felt horrible for stabbing Toby in the eye mostly. You'd apologize when you were eating. The fact that you even wanted to apologize to the murderer was just another testament to how fucked you were. You wondered if you'd ever fully accept it, your circumstances. You still weren't willing to give into the big bad stick's will but you knew if it decided you'd be its subordinate you couldn't refuse it. You were just a leaf in the wind and so were they, you were in this big fucked up mess together. Resenting each other to a degree or not.

"How do you fuck up instant mashed potatoes, Toby!? How? Explain it to me!" Tim's voice was loud and jokingly accusatory, a harsh bark of a laugh following.

"How duh-did you burn the chicken th-that bad? That sshh-shit looks like a bunch'a rocks." Toby cackled, you directed a concerned gaze towards the entrance of the kitchen. Why did Brian let them cook? 

You found yourself wanting to smile at their dysfunction but you bit down the urge. You knew you were just like them, no better but you found yourself reasonably reluctant to just be _okay_ with your circumstances and melt into their family unit. You felt if you did you'd be betraying the dead but the thing is, the dead are long gone. You're still here living and in need of companionship and acceptance.

"Whatever." Tim huffed, entering the living room. A blue bowl in each hand. They may have used three in one soap before you came into the picture but at least they weren't complete barbarians, willing to eat burned food that you were too scared to see. "You." Tim's eyes locked onto yours as he approached. He shoved the bowl into your face, "Here." He actually looked away for once as you took the bowl from his hand. He sat himself between you and Brian, as you set the bowl on your lap.

"I don't think I have to tell you that what you did was stupid, but what you did was stupid." Tim sounded like he was lecturing you. You supposed you understood, if you'd just stayed home then you wouldn't have more blood on your hands. You wouldn't be more like them. Despite them starting to accept you into their lives they pitied you, not wanting another human being to go through what they'd gone through. 

You wanted to be offended, but he was right. You'd never tell him that though, that'd inflate his already over sized ego. You just huffed, bringing the spoon from the bowl to your lips, "Okay, _dad_."

Toby softly chuckled on his way into the room, holding two bowls just as Tim had. Tim glared at him then you, "That's not funny dumb ass. You could'a had it come after you, ya'know? You're lucky it let us get to you before it got impatient." He seriously scolded as Toby passed a bowl to Brian, who gave him a soft smile.

You vaguely remember Tim calling to you that it was either them or **him** who'd eventually catch you. You were glad that the lesser evil took pity on you, not beating the shit out of you as punishment for escaping. Actually, there was jarring _lack_ of punishment. It was suspicious. 

Swallowing a lump of chewed up cereal, you began, "Thanks." You couldn't bring yourself to look any of them in the eye while you apologized, a small pathetic part of you still spiteful, saying it was submission, that it was a disgrace to the dead. "For everything." You continued, dipping your spoon into the bowl. By 'everything' you meant picking your crazy ass up and treating your wounds. "Also sorry," You quickly added, "Especially to you, Toby." You shoved a spoonful of cereal into your mouth, forcing yourself to shut up. Thank you's and sorry's directed at them felt right to say but they left a bitter taste on your tongue. 

As you anxiously chewed away Toby sat down next to you, shifting in his seat so your sides were brushing. The boy seemed to need constant human contact, you don't know why you seemed to be his go-to, maybe because you were new. You tensed but didn't fight it, you needed the contact too, someone physically beside you, it was grounding. Before it was scary, him forcing his presence onto you with malicious intent but now it felt like a quiet affection, an 'it's okay I forgive you'. 

"I get it!" Toby chirped as you swallowed. "I did th-the sssuh-same thing when I was new!" You wondered what it was like for him to be considered, especially given all of his oddities, "I fuh-forgive you."

An arm was quickly thrown behind your back, a hand grabbing your side and pulling you close to Toby. He was giving you a one-armed side hug. You felt him lean into you even more, placing the bottom of his jaw on the top of your head. You didn't quite know how to respond to the sudden affection, so you just sat there stiff as Toby continued the hug way longer than was socially acceptable. He only released you once you relaxed your muscles a bit, realizing his touch wasn't one of mischief or malintent. He released you because you somewhat accepted the hug, not as an unwilling victim but as a genuinely friendly gesture.

"Also, I'm way tuh-too distracted to care be-because Brian has really-ly fun punishment planned!" Toby chirped, his fingers flexing and wiggling excitedly, sounding a little too excited for you to believe he was completely over the whole being stabbing in eye thing.

There it was, the punishment. You knew it was all too good to be true. You immediately tensed once more, your stomach dropping. You didn't know if they were still down to hurt you, you were still fair game to beat up after all.

Brian huffed, "Toby," He sounded mildly disappointed,"That was supposed to be a surprise."

"Uhm." Your mouth fell dry, your heart started to pound.

"We're not gonna hurt you, dumb ass." Tim grunted, sensing the anxiety that radiated off of you.

You leaned forward, clutching the bowl in your hands, "Then?" You didn't know what they could do to you without harming you. You looked towards Brian who was leaning on his hand and smiling at you cheekily. You were not excited for this punishment.

"Oh, haha!" He smiled fakely, the toothy grin he always gave you at the diner, lined his lips, "I unlocked your phone."

_Uh-oh, uh-oh, uh-oh. Play it cool._

"Ooh," You were trying and failing not to sound mortified, "Interesting. I don't see how that's a punishment really." You were lying through your fucking teeth.

"Really?" Brian didn't sound very convinced, smiling with raised brows, "Well, you seemed awfully distressed when you first saw that I was trying to get into your phone." You could have sworn he was enthralled with the phone at the time, not taking in your reaction; but this man was just a bundle of non-stop surprises. 

"Uh." You had to come up with something, throw him off. As you stared at the man, mouth agape, he presented your phone from his hoodie pocket. "Nothing interesting is on that!" You immediately internally smacked yourself, making yourself seem more suspicious. 

"Well, I wouldn't know as I've yet to go through it." Brian smiled, unlocking your phone with one hand while feeding himself with the other. After a moment he began, "If there's nothing interesting on it then you shouldn't look so worried." 

"Okay! Okay! I get it! I fucked up just," You pointed a finger at the smug man, one hand steadying the bowl on your lap, " _Don't go through that!_ " You hoped begging would work, denying it would only make him more eager. 

"It's a puh-punishment ya'know?" Toby snickered, elbowing you in the side lightly, you don't know if you could ever look any of them in the eyes if Brian found the texts.

"I get that but there are some things in the world that you just shouldn't know." You blurted the words out, Brian only looked more intrigued as he began scrolling through your phone, "Don't. _I swear to god_." You hollowly threatened the man. He blinked at you before looking down to the phone, tapping unseen things with his thumb. He could look at whatever he wanted, just not your texts with Sully. Anything but that.

Tim slapped a hand on your shoulder, you cringed, he was going to know. "What're you gonna do, huh?" You looked up at him, a playfully challenging look on his face. 

You had knifed a man recently but you didn't want to kill anyone again, disgusted with yourself but okay with it at the same time. You could threaten to stab him but that'd only be a verbal confirmation of your deeds. You didn't want to talk about it. 

"I'll be really, really fucking annoying." You spat at Tim, meeting his gaze with a scowl.

"You already are." Tim retorted with a snort.

"Oh now this is interesting." Brian chimed, you looked away from Tim to a _very_ smiley Brian. When you made eye contact with him all he did was glance to Tim, then glance to you. Oh God.

_"Don't. I swear to fucking god, Brian."_ You hissed through grit teeth, cheeks already heating up. You felt like you were in middle school after someone let the cat outta the bag about who you were crushing on. Incredibly embarrassed, full of shame, feeling like you were about to die. This was cruel and unusual punishment.

"Hey Tim, did you know that (Y/n) finds you, quote ' _fine as hell and dummy thick,'_ I just thought that was interesting." Brian smiled while casually delivering the information that was plummeting your shitty life into another layer of hell. You wondered if they knew what 'dummy thick' meant. You hoped they didn't. 

" _I didn't say that!"_ You immediately defended yourself, unable to see Tim's initial reaction as he was turned to Brian. In response Brian passed Tim the phone. " _Give it!"_ You quickly placed your bowl of cereal on the coffee table. One hand grabbed his shoulder to pull you up and somewhat over him, the other reaching for your phone.

Tim just held the phone out reach with snicker, oh god his fucking ego, "Aww! Did you have a crush on me?" Tim barked out a mocking laugh, batting his eyelashes at you.

" _I did fucking not!"_ You hissed, swinging for your phone once more as Tim scrolled through the conversation. This was your worst nightmare.

Of course it was embarrassing but it felt like being ribbed by close friends, not people you were forced into solidarity with. It was violating to a degree but the worst part is that it felt like a bonding experience, a horribly embarrassing one, but a bonding experience nonetheless. Getting closer to those who you'd probably spend the rest of your miserable days with was a plus, knowing them better as people over murderers was a good thing. However, getting to know them was still a wretched idea to you, you were one in the same, no more morally superior than they are. You just couldn't get over the bodies, Jen's most of all. 

With your conflicting feelings pushed to the back of your brain, you swung for your phone once more. Tim easily keeping it out of your reach. "Well I mean, you're practically throwing yourself at me right now." He smugly huffed. No matter how you felt about bonding with them, you had to get that phone.

"Because you have my fucking phone!" You made an effort to not touch him anyways. Not wanting him to make more comments about it. 

Then he saw it. 

You both paused.

"What's it sssuh-say!?" You heard Toby put his bowl down on the coffee table before attempting to lean over your shoulder, chest brushing up against your back. Tim shoved the screen towards Brian, not wanting to see anymore of the _choice_ things you had to say about him.

Tim didn't look at you as Brian took the phone.

He just grumbled, "And you're the one who's all like 'diner and movie' first, fuckin' nasty." He seemed embarrassed, you expected him to get even more in your face about it but instead he scooted away from you. You know you'd done it when a man who saw people's insides on the regular scooted away from _you,_ someone smaller, weaker, and had done significantly much less murder.

You pushed yourself away from him, forgetting Toby was practically breathing down your neck. "I didn't th-think that you'd buh-be into old men." Toby sunk back into his seat, allowing you to sit down properly as well. You made yourself as small as possible, hands together on your lap and face red.

"I'm not." You huffed frowning, you literally couldn't look at Tim knowing he'd read what he just read.

"Hey Buh-Brian, what's it sssuh-say?" Toby called to the man across the couch, who was looking at the phone in mild shock.

" _Fucking don't."_ Was all you could hiss out, wishing that the vulgar texts would make Brian back down.

They did not. "Oh wow." Brian seemed the type to not be easily surprised, "You want him to _what?_ " You could feel his gaze on you, you didn't meet it.

"What's it sssuh-say?!" Toby urged.

"' _He's always sucking on cigarettes 'n shit. Come suck on these titties instead, daddy,'_ and then there's a bunch of little faces that look sweaty next to it." You brought you face into your hands, groaning loudly as you shook your head. 

" _Jesus fuck stoooooop!"_ You begged, cringing into your hands.

"Daddy?" Toby's question only made you groan, you didn't want to explain that shit to an adult man. "And what do you muh-mean by little fuh-faces?" 

"Have a look." You heard them shift around you. 

_"Fucking don't."_ You echoed the earlier sentiment, further pushing your hands into your face.

Toby quietly read the text to himself for a moment before bursting out laughing. "I cuh-can't believe you're into th-the old man!"

_"I'm not!_ " You removed your head from your hands, burning up and bringing yourself face to face with Toby. Hoping since he seemed to be the nicest that he'd give you the phone. You truly weren't into them, not anymore anyway. At the diner you thought they were normal people but now knowing them as murders, kidnappers, and fucked up companions or roommates, you wanted to take it all back.

Toby had a devious grin upon his face and a mischievous gleam in his eye, he was not going to give you the phone. You just shook your head, "Don't."

Toby looked down at the phone, blinking a moment. The smug smile melted into one of genuine flattery, _oh-no._ With an elated gasp he began to recite a block of text, "' _For real though! Tuh-Toby's one of the cutest guys I've ever fuh-ucking seen, like hello?"_ He paused a moment not understanding the lingo, before continuing with a giggle, " _How cuh-can ssssuh-someone be so cute but evil at the ssuh-same time. I just_ _-"_ Toby then tried to sound out a long block of text that you knew was you smashing your thumbs across your keyboard. He didn't seem to understand what the jumble of letters meant, looking at a horrified you with a tilt of the head before finishing,"' _He looks like he gets puh-pegged though. L-O-L.'_ What the fuh-fuck does L-O-L mean?" Toby questioned you, you didn't respond, he just shrugged, " _'So like, duh-dunno if I'm into that.'_ Wh-what's pegging?"

_"Ooooh my Gooood."_ You slapped both of your hands onto your face, dragging them down the heated skin with a groan. You said that as a joke and now it was being thrown back in your face with painful naivety. 

"Do no tell him, you nasty ass." Tim warned.

_"I'm not going to. For the love of fucking god, take the phone away from him. I've learned my lesson, please god."_ You don't know what was worse; being a possible proxy and having to live with the men who knew that at some point you were _very much_ into them or having their boss order your death and you have to die at the hands of the men, one of whom you called 'dummy thick'.

Toby suddenly threw his arms around you, one around your back and one around your front. You tore your head from your hands, seeing as Brian leaned over Tim to grab the phone from Toby with an expression of amusement. You glanced up Toby to find him grinning from ear to ear, a soft blush on his cheeks. Not surprising, you probably don't get called cute in that kind of way very often when you were missing almost an entire cheek. Toby's embrace was bone-crushingly tight, him nuzzling his gash-less cheek into your hair.

"Get off of me!" You yelped, not really knowing how to respond to the sudden extreme affection.

You were about to go on about how you didn't mean it like that, which was a total lie, but before you could a very surprisingly excited Toby began. "Th-that's the nicest thing a-anyone's ever sssuh-said about me!" You suddenly didn't have the heart to, solely because you knew he was still a bit offended about getting stabbed in the eye. Yeah, totally. 

"Please let go." You didn't want to be as abrasive, he seemed so genuinely happy to know that someone thought he was attractive. Had he never been complimented like that before? Well, he was a feral murderer living in the woods without almost an entire cheek. You don't really get many visitors, much less admirers. 

"Do you ruh-really want to me th-though? Sssuh-since I'm ss-so cute 'n all." Gone was the sweet joy of someone feeling like they were being complimented for the first time. Toby was back to being a mischievous little bastard. You didn't know which you preferred, either way you were incredibly embarrassed. 

"Just get off me." You were doing this as a way of making up for stabbing him. Letting him have a bit of a confidence boost wouldn't do much harm, other then be something you had a feeling he'd never live down.

He surprisingly obeyed, sliding his arms off of you. He was still touching you though, doing his usual act of sitting so close that your legs were touching. He leaned on you more then usual, his cheek resting on the top of your head. If you scooted away you'd end up touching a still very distressed Tim, you didn't want to touch any of them more then you had to. It wasn't like you _had_ to touch Toby, he was just a very touchy person and it was better for everybody if you just let him lean on you. It wasn't harmful at all but under your current circumstances you wanted to fucking implode.

"Yuh-you didn't deny it luh-like you did with the old muh-man. Do you like me or sssuh-somethin'?" You knew he was teasing you to get a reaction. His words were a catch twenty-two, you didn't want to break the building bond and insult him, he seemed genuinely so happy about being complimented. Without being able to deny it though, you'd look like you were into him when that wasn't the case.

"Hey what time is it?" You completely ignored him, "Shouldn't we head to bed, ahahah?" You glanced pleadingly at a softly smiling Brian, either at Toby's very obvious elation or the effectiveness of his chosen punishment, maybe both.

"Well I just got to the part where you say that I'm a, quote, ' _total hottie.'"_ You could have sworn you saw the ghost of a blush on his cheeks, if that had him blushing then you hoped to god he didn't keep going. Sully was really into him and you both idly chattered about the man and how stupidly attractive he is.

"Brian, I am being completely serious when I say that you don't want to see more. Just put the phone down." You turned to the man but couldn't look him in the eye. 

That only spurred him on, thumb moving along the screen and eyes darting back and forth reading lines of text. Then he stopped, mouth hanging slightly agape. He looked at you, then the phone, then at you. Cheeks flushing a bright pink, you never took him for the bashful type. Then again, you bet he was reading something along the lines of, ' _He always be ridin' that motorcycle but ya'know what I'd like to ride?'_ Or maybe in a twisted fate of irony, ' _I'd let him choke me anytime,'_ Or perhaps, ' _How can you ride a motorcycle and not have a big dick? I KNOW his dick is big, Sully! I FUCKING KNOW IT!'_

Brian didn't confirm any of your theories as he clicked his tongue, shoving the phone into his pocket, picking up the bowl. "Well, I hope you learned your lesson." He quickly shuffled out of the room and into the hall. "Goodnight." You, Tim, and Toby watched with mouths agape. The soft ' _click'_ of his door shutting had the group unfreezing.

"Wow. What the actual fuck did you say about him, (Y/n)?" Tim sounded genuinely shocked and mildly disgusted. "Wait actually, I don't want to know." 

"I wa-want to know!" Toby chirped beside you. A frustrated scream was building in your throat.

They weren't stupid. They all knew you said those things before they revealed themselves to you. Aesthetic attraction didn't mean much anyway! It was simple and shallow attraction. It didn't take away from the fact that you and Sully made many sexual jokes at their expense. Some jokes held a little bit of weight to them but you'd never go through with it, even back then you told yourself you weren't going to date anybody or have any sort of fling. You were all adults, you knew that, but it was still so embarrassing that all you could do was throw your head in your hands and dully scream.

"Alright I'm uh," You felt Tim stand up from the couch, "I'm just gonna go." You heard him walking away, he halfheartedly called, "Don't run off again. I don't want to hear shit like that ever again." 

"Oh my god." You mumbled into your hands. You had no intention to leave, there was no one else in the world who understood you. There was also nobody else in the world besides Sully, who you couldn't see anymore, who knew about your silly crushes on them back at the diner. You weren't going to run away because of extreme embarrassment. You were tempted but you wouldn't. 

"Ss-so!" Toby leaned further into you, "Do you wanna re-repeat how cute you th-think I am or?" You thought you'd blow Tim's ego out of the water but here Toby was, fishing for compliments. He probably needed it, it's probably hard to feel very confident in your looks when you're murdering people all the time, being held under an eldritch entities thumb, and using three-in-one's. You wondered if he hated his appearance.

"Go to bed, Toby." You grumbled into your hands. 

He hummed in response before nuzzling into the top of your head one last time, only furthering your embarrassment. He stood from the couch, you didn't look his way as he walked to the hall. "I'm really guh-glad it choose you." You perked up at the sudden statement of reassurance. Toby stood at the mouth of the hallway, a cheeky grin spread across his face, "Night (Y/n)." 

You gave him a tight lipped smile, "Goodnight Toby." He smiled at your goodbye before disappearing down the hall.

You were a little glad you could make it up to the boy, that was your only consolation for the boy other than having a shower. All today was a mess on conflicting feelings and one of the most deeply embarrassing moments of your life.

They trusted you. They left you untied and alone. One part of you rejoiced at the freedoms while the other despaired, they knew you wouldn't run because you had nowhere to go. No one to go to. 

There was nothing else left in the world for you but here and them.


	25. 24 - THE GIRLS ARE FIGHTING!

The morning was going as good as it possibly could, considering the past night's events. Tim didn't look you in the eye or talk to you while passing you breakfast. You supposed he was keeping your injured leg in mind, grabbing your food so you wouldn't have to. 

Tim actually shutting his big mouth was an achievement to say the least. You hardly knew him on a deep and personal level, but you had the impression that him being quiet and avoiding all possible eye contact with you meant you had rattled him to the core. You felt somewhat proud! On the other hand you could hardly look at him to take in the sweet look on his face that came with feeling objectified, because you were so embarrassed by the things you had said. 

He had shuffled his way back into the kitchen, looking to eat away from your gaze at the pitiful excuse for a kitchen bar. You didn't object to that at all, you needed some more time to deeply regret your actions. All of them, everything that led up to you becoming a triple murderer, extremely horrible person who was somewhat okay being a triple murderer, and the fact that it led to here. You sitting alone on a couch eating cereal and trying to will yourself out of existence. Not out of self hate, though you did hate yourself, it was more so out of a sense of ' _oh my god, oh my god, oh my god, they know that I thought that they're hot'._

Eating away at your breakfast, you were alerted to the fact that another one of the houses residents had awoken with the soft shutting of a door and the sound of claws on carpet. Your first thought sprung happily to Goober, then shamefully plummeted to Brian. You hoped after he left to go to his room that he didn't look at more of your texts because honestly, that shit only got worse. 

You avoided looking towards the hall, if you could help it you weren't going to look in Brian's general direction for the rest of your entire life. Thing's quickly changed when you heard the heavy pounding of four paws clumsily running towards you. You quickly slapped your bowl onto the table just before Goober threw his entire body onto your lap. 

You were pushed into the couch cushions with an _,"Oof!"_ You got a brief glance in Brian's direction when you looked to Goober, quickly turning your head down to get him completely out of your sight. "Hey there, Goob-boob." You ran your hands through his soft fur as his wet nose loudly sniffed at your face.

It was all fun and games until one of his giant paws stepped right onto the bandaged wound. With a pained gasp and your body jerking back in pain, Goober quickly jumped off of you. Hissing in pain, you slapped your hands over the pulsating bandages and crumpled forward with an, " _Ah! Fuck!"_

Goober may have been swayed to hop off of you for a moment, but he was still an excite able and dumb dog. He attempted to put his paws up onto your knees but you held out a hand, stopping his affectionate advance. You wanted to feel loved unapologetically, you needed affection, reassurance, and validation to stay somewhat sane but you also felt the need to not reopen your stab wound at nine in the morning. 

"Sorry baby." You said through pained breaths, whatever painkillers Brian had put you on were seeming to wear off and after that you'd need more. With a disappointed whine, Goober set all of his paws onto the floor, his tail swaying low to the ground, anxious but excited. 

You heard a low whistle, calling the dog to follow, you assumed it was Brian as he seemed to be the only one to care for the dog, besides you. You didn't fight him on it, wanting to feed Goober yourself and show dominance over who the real dog parent was in this household, but your leg was hurting like a bitch and there was no way you were going to talk to him.

Goober bounded away from you, looking for affection elsewhere, as well as breakfast. You heard the two enter the kitchen, still desperately clutching onto your thigh. The pain was a pulsating throb that only seemed to get hotter by the second. You hoped Brian picked up on the very obvious cue to grab you some medication or whatever the fuck he used on your leg.

For now though, all you heard from the kitchen was the soft clicking of Goober's paws on the tile and hushed 'good mornings' from Tim and Brian. Cutting through the awkward atmosphere was a loud sound.

**_Thud_**

You kept your hands over the bandages but slowly unfurled, bringing your head up to look to the hall. Stomping out into the living room was a disheveled looking Toby. Curly hair more unruly than usual, deep bags beneath his eyes. He snapped his head to you without a smile, odd, his lips pulled into a scowl. "What the fu-fuck are you luh-looking at?" He snapped with down turned brows. 

You were taken aback, recoiling back ever so slightly, "What the fuck?" You were confused as to where this sudden flip of a switch came from, as the boy was nuzzling up to you and chatting with you like normal, but you weren't going to take that shit. You'd been humiliated last night and your leg was fucking killing you, you weren't in a very understanding mood anyways.

The chattering from the kitchen ceased, Toby tensing at your icily worded question. You told yourself you weren't going to look any of them in the eye for the next million years but Toby coming out of nowhere being a dickhead to you when you felt like shit, made you immediately go back on your word. You both stared one another down from across the room, his fists clenching and unclenching, his head violently snapping to his shoulder over and over.

"Hey!" Tim's voice cut through the silent stand off. You snapped your gaze to the doorway, only because Toby had. If he hadn't you would have stared his ass down for hours, not being one to back down from a little creepy or angry staring after all of your time dealing with it at the diner. "Toby, don't waste your time. Come get something to eat." You were shocked at Tim trying to deescalate the situation, out of everybody you would have though that he'd want to to see your ass kicked most. 

He was the leader after all, being able to literally stand up to the tall twig was a feat held by probably very few. Brian at first seemed to be the puppeteer behind his partners, but Tim was the one really in charge. He hadn't expressed his leadership too heavily over his partners, but Brian seemed to bend at the man's will, trusting him enough to go with anything he said. You supposed if you were to become one of them, he wanted to keep things at least somewhat civil between all of you. If you became a proxy and hated them then you probably wouldn't _work_ well in tandem with them. 

Toby scowled, not sparing you a second glance before shoving passed Tim with a, "Wh-whatever Ti-Timothy." He pulled out the older man's full name with a low growl.

Tim didn't seem bothered by this in the slightest, quickly recovering from the shove to the side, only letting out an annoyed sigh. He glanced your way a moment, the second your eyes met you both immediately looked away. You both still didn't want to completely acknowledge one another. You turned back to your breakfast, one hand pushing down on the bandage. You didn't think the gash had reopened but you weren't exactly used to have stab wounds. 

As you shoveled the last of the cereal into your mouth, setting the bowl onto the coffee table, you glanced up to see Brian crossing the living room. You jumped a hand slapping over your heart, _"Jesus fuck!"_ You didn't know how someone could be so obnoxiously silent or sneaky, but Brian was exactly that.

He didn't respond, understandable after the last night's events. He popped open a bottle of pills, seemingly looking very interested in the pill bottle, and not the girl who had called him Daddy about one-hundred times in her texts. He knelt down shaking out two circular white pills onto the counter top. Brian seemed to be all out of efficiency, it would have been more efficient to just pop the pills into his hand and give them to you. Instead he put them on the table. You theorized that it was him not wanting something that touched his skin going into your mouth. You didn't know whether or not you found it funny, because it implied he was _that_ disgusted by you.

You noticed Toby exiting the kitchen, a bowl in hand, intending to eat alone in his room. You sucked in a sharp inhale, you had to break through the ice somehow. You couldn't just not look at them and stay quiet forever. You'd start with Toby, he may have seemed to woke up on the wrong side of the bed, but he got stabbed in the eye and took it with an amazing stride.

As Brian stood back up, you leaned to the side to get a better view of the disheveled looking Toby.

"Good morning." You left out his name, not trying to completely exclude the others from your awkward greeting. Though it was still obvious it was directed towards him. 

He snapped his head to you with a frown, "Sssh-shut the fuck uh-up."

Last night he seemed hardly bothered by the messages you and Sully sent back and forth. Actually, he seemed over the moon about the whole affair. Maybe he figured out what pegging was and didn't appreciate you saying that he looked like he got pegged. 

Either way, nicest out of the three smelly dickbags or not, you weren't going to take that shit _, "Excuse me?"_ You tilted your head challengingly at him, you probably shouldn't when he could kick your ass without a second thought.

"I sssuh-said," He took a warning step towards you, free hand flexing his fingers at odd angles, "Sssh-shut the fuck uh-up." He growled out, your stare down resuming.

"You two!" Tim called from the kitchen, "Cut the shit. It's nine in the fuckin' morning, too early." He sounded like an exhausted father with two children who fought over stupid shit, like riding shotgun all the time.

Toby opened his mouth to either insult you or Tim, before he could Brian spoke up, moving his body inbetween you and Toby, "Drop it, Toby. Go back to bed."

"You're nuh-not my fu-fucking dad, Brian." Toby snarled. You had to admit, Brian did seem to act as a father figure to the boy, but seemed to baby him a bit much. "Ssstuh-stop acting luh-like you are." With that he stomped into the hall, his cereal threatening to spill over the side of his bowl.

**_Thud_**

The cabins walls shook with the force of Toby's bedroom door shutting. You shouldn't have looked, but you were curious. You looked from the hall up to Brian's face. Lips pressed into a line and brows furrowed, he wasn't happy about that.

"Is he okay?" You blurted out, it was unusual to see someone so chipper suddenly so pissy and rude. It'd also do well for you if you showed basic concern for the cabins residents as you were going to be staying there for some time. As terrified as you were of them, as much as you resented them, you had to constantly reminded yourself that you were on the same sinking ship. Even if they were the ones who dragged you onto said ship, you were stuck with them.

"He gets like that sometimes." Brian flatly responded, his expression having a hard time melting into once of his unusual indifference. That hit him really hard, didn't it? "You know he has B.P.D." His words made you vaguely recall him forcing Toby to apologize at the diner, informing you of the disorder. You weren't dim, the way he spoke heavily implied he didn't want you asking any more questions. 

Unluckily for him, you were curious and didn't like his tone. You weren't in the mood to be bossed around by him after Toby's rudeness, and also, your stab wound was aching like a motherfucker. There'd been something lingering in the back of your mind ever since it happened, Toby's freak out in the alleyway. You assumed that his very obvious, and recently mentioned, mental problems had to do with it. However, you couldn't simply blame his screaming and crying on B.P.D, there was visceral terror in his cries. Something much stronger than a manic episode or a mood swing. You knew trauma when you heard it, being quite experienced crying and screaming about horrible things, mostly things they'd caused.

You told yourself, the part of yourself that was still diluted into think that you were a good person, that you were only going to ask so you could further avoid upsetting Toby. Deep down though, you were mostly curious and bored, still finding it hard to genuinely care about their well being.

Leaning forward, grabbing the white pills from the counter, popping them into your mouth you began, "The alleyway where I lit Tim up," You bluntly began, Brian turning to you, gaze sharp and warning, "Why'd he freak out so bad? I know that's not B.P.D."

His lips pulled themselves into an even tighter line, brows furrowing with an intensity you did not like. Toby's outburst had upset him to a bigger degree than he let on, your words only seeming to rub salt in the wound. Also you didn't listen to his very obvious social cues for you to shut the fuck up. You stared one another down, you had to push away the shame and embarrassment in order to do so. You were more pissed than you were embarrassed at the moment, so it was doable. 

He looked down at you with an expression of distaste he didn't care to hide, "Panic attack," His voice was flat and dry, "He's not good with fire and _you_ hurt Tim." You could see his upper lip curl in disgust as he spoke to you, the one who'd harmed his partners, the one who sent Toby into a panic attack.

You didn't know much of any of their origins, funny considering they were so deeply intertwined with yours. It was curious, but you shoved curiosity aside for a moment, not appreciating the continued rudeness towards you. You just had to push out a nasty sarcastic laugh, like they were so Innocent.

"Oh," You gasped in mock realization and sympathy, "I'm so sorry that I defended myself when you were going to fucking kill me!" Your words dripped a fake sweetness that did nothing to hide your disdain. You may be stuck with them, you may relate horribly to them, you may try to get closer to them so your time together wouldn't be as hellish, but that didn't mean you were over the things they'd done to you.

Even if you understood their reasoning, you fucking hated them. You hated them for doing their jobs. It made you feel like an angry white mom, complaining to corporate about a poor, teenage, minimum wage, worker messing up her drink in the slightest amount. Being angry with them was completely rational, hating them was rational, it made you feel somewhat better about yourself, that you still hated them. If you didn't, then you'd be the actual worst person ever, accepting them for the sick fucks that they were somewhat forced to be. They didn't have to be sadistic, but there wasn't a point in fighting back your urges. Taking out your anger and frustration on some poor bastard who's going to die anyway. It was understandable but so selfish at the time. 

"You didn't die though." Brian flatly observed, blinking slowly at you, like you were stupid.

You snarled, "No shit! I'm stuck here with you assholes and a butt-load of trauma!" You popped the pills into your mouth, dryly swallowing them before continuing, "I didn't fucking know at the time that the big bad stick was going to," You dramatically shook your hands beside your head, in a mocking act of holy praise, "Save my soul!"

There were a few ' _thumps'_ and ' _thuds'_ before the sound of a door being swung off its hinges filled your ears. You didn't look away from Brian's gaze as Toby yelled, "Cuh-can you just sssh-shut the fuck up already (Y/n)?!" Calling from the hallway he echoed the earlier sentiment, tacking your name onto it much to your chagrin.

You really weren't having this shit at all. You don't know what everyone's deal was today but you were really over it. _"Fuck off Toby!"_ For a bitter moment you felt like you were back in high school, listening to Dan and Jen have a spat about something stupid. Instead of Dan and Jen, it was you and Toby, fighting over nothing, which was pretty stupid.

"Don't talk to him like that." Brain lowly informed, his usual apathetic tone slowly falling away. If you knew what was good for you, you'd back off but you didn't. Your life was in an unending downward spiral. The only way it could get worse was if you submitted to these assholes, if you gave up the little bit of individuality and fight you had in you. They may be your fucked up comrades, but you had the idea in your head that they didn't see you as an equal at all.

"Ssstuh-stop fucking buh-babying me, Brian!" Toby shouted from the hall once more.

You decided to join in, not to side with Toby but to further piss off Brian. They were always allowed to degrade you and yell at you, talk to you any way they wanted. It pissed you off to no end.

"Yeah _Brian!"_ You forced his name off your tongue the same way Toby had, like he was yelling at a parent. Brian sucked his lips into his mouth, huffing, he didn't appreciate your tone at all. "Don't baby him! I can talk to Toby anyway I fucking want to!" You had to make your intentions perfectly clear, you were doing this solely to piss them off, because they were pissing you off.

 _"Don't you fucking try it again, (Y/n)."_ Brian took a step forward, long legs closing the little distance between you easily. It wasn't like you could stand up to him, your stab wound was still throbbing. You were willing to test the murderers patience, pushing as my buttons as you could, but you were still going to somewhat care for your bodily health. You'd run the risk of possibly acquiring new wounds but you honestly doubted they'd do anything. You were a bit drunk off of the power of being a possible comrade for them. Them being angry about your earlier actions towards them but having to suck it up and be somewhat okay to you on the off chance you'd live with them. Rotting away as an eldritch entities puppets together. 

You weren't guaranteed your safety at all, they could still break your bones and slice you open. As long as you lived it wouldn't give a shit. You were going to, as Brian put it, _'try it again'._ Sitting, you jut a finger into his chest and let out a vicious stream of word vomit, "I bet you treat Toby like your little fuckin' baby because you're _scared_. Scared your little murder baby is going to cry. You need your rat baby happy because you don't know how to be fulfilled on your own. I fucking bet you're living vicariously through his happiness. 'Cus you're a _pathetic_ fuck who doesn't know how to be happy outside of brutally murdering people! How about instead of babying a grown ass man, just admit that you're a _hollow shell of a person_?" The entire time you had a nasty smile across your lips, meeting his angry gaze with a look of pure malice.

You heard Tim first, he couldn't control himself for very long apparently. He growled in your direction, "You take that back you fuckin'-"

"Yeah." Brian let the word push through his lips, hands twitching into fists, ignoring Tim's growl. "You're right." He delivered it flatly, voice once again apathetic. He took the degrading insult to his character in stride. "I want Toby to be as happy as he can be because he doesn't deserve to be like me. As you put it a ' _hollow shell of a person_ '." He informed you firmly, unashamed of his supposed hollowness as a person. He practically was admitting that he cared more for his partners life than his own. You would have thought that in a shitty situation like the one you're all in, would make anyone selfish, hard, and reserved. They seemed to thrive, only because they had each other. It was as heartwarming as it was deeply sickening. 

There was a beat of thick silence, tension hanging heavy in the air. "(Y/n)." You heard Tim call from his spot in the kitchen, "If you don't shut the _fuck_ up about Brian I will bust your fuckin' kneecaps." His threat was delivered angrily but you heard no moves from him to actually make you shut up. He made no moves to stop Brian from kicking your ass either.

He left it there, preferring to keep things short unlike you. His gaze made you feel small and powerless, the only remedy for that would to make him mad. You wouldn't make him feel the same but you could ruin his mood even further. Still staring him down, it took all of your will to keep smiling venomously at him, _"Hey Toby!"_

Brian looked down at you with a look of ' _don't you fucking dare insult my boy'._

"Wh-what?!" He snapped, still standing in the hall. You noticed that Toby didn't bother to defend to Brian who was white knighting for him. This didn't seem to bother him at all.

" _BITCH!"_ The second the scream left your lips, hands were gripping your shoulders. " _HE-"_

**_Thud_ **

"Ay! Calm down over there!" You only distantly heard Tim's voice over the rattling of your skull. Brian had lifted you from the couch like you were nothing more then a bag of potatoes. Then, he slammed you against the nearest wall that wasn't in front of the couch. The back of your skull slamming into the yellow wall. 

If Tim of all people was being the voice of reason, things had really devolved. 

Grimacing with your eyes screwed shut, your head pulsed dully while your back was pressed flat against the wall. Your feet dangling uselessly below you. You supposed the only reason he didn't grab you by the throat was because of the texts he must have seen about you being very down to get choked. In a very different context but still, your half-joking comments saved your neck, literally. 

Opening your eyes, you weren't surprised to be met with Brian's intense gaze. He held you below his eye level, a visual reminder that he thought you to be below him, unequal. 

" _Mind your fucking manners."_ Brian growled through gritted teeth.

Though your skull was pounding and you feet were off the floor, you weren't going to back down. His actions only spurred you on, "If you wanna talk manners then how about, we I dunno," You tilted your head side to side in mock thought, "Talk about that one time you killed Emile. Who I fucking _know_ wasn't a target." You knew two things about Brian for sure, he didn't care for it when you insulted his boys and he hated when you brought up the pickup truck incident. He really was one to hold a grudge.

He blinked, the edges of his mouth twitching into a ever so slight frown. He was quietly allowing you to continue, quietly showing his dominance over you, telling you he could shut you the fuck up whenever he wanted to. 

"You could'a chased him off or waited for me to be alone but _noooo,"_ You snarled at him, making a show of bearing your teeth, "You just had to kill him because your little fucking ego couldn't take the fact that, oh boo-hoo!" You pouted obnoxiously, "Brian got thrown off a truck!" You spat the words out, glaring up at the man.

He didn't die but at the time, you thought him as more of a crackhead than an enraged murder man with healing powers. You legitimately attempted to kill him, believing for not very long that you had.

"So! Ya had to go and kill some innocent kid to feel better about yourself!" You snottily laughed at him, bringing your once dangling hands to his wrists, digging your nails into his skin in an attempt to get him to let go.

He wasn't phased in the slightest by your actions, but your words had him huffing through his nose. A look of barely hidden disgust on his face, "You'd do well to remember that you are _no better_ than any of us. Need I remind you what you did to Doug?" Of course Brian knew his name, he'd proven himself to be a super stalker so far. 

"Brian." You couldn't see Tim but you heard him start to approach, "Put her down. She's not fuckin' worth it." 

You'd worked damn hard to piss Brian off this much, you were worth it. You only wanted to further enrage the seemingly calm man, "I know what I did and I'm not fucking proud of it. You think I enjoy being like _you?"_ You snarled with a fake laugh, "You, me, Tim, Toby? _We're all the fucking worst!"_

Insults to his own character, Brian seemed to take without a problem. However, you dragging his boys into your insults, even if they were true, didn't make him very happy. He dug his fingers into your shoulders, pushing you further into the wall. "They were tormented by **him** their entire lives," Brian growled, referring to the murky pasts of his companions, "This is _all_ Toby's ever known. _Don't you dare compare your wretched ass to them."_ Brian seemed to let information slip whenever he was pissed off. You'd considering doing it more often if your heart wasn't thundering in your chest, you were terrified. 

_"Brain."_ Tim put a hand on his companions shoulder. He seemed to be the only one with his head screwed on right today. You, Brian, and Toby were all catty as hell, it was up to him to keep a semblance of order. Honestly, it was probably more out of just wanting to enjoy his morning cup of coffee in peace. 

Brian blinked, facial muscles slightly relaxing with the touch. He regarded you with one last curl of the lip before ripping his hands from your shoulders and stepping back. You fell to the floor, which had to have been a foot or so below your feet. 

_"GAH!"_ You gasped out, the shock of the short and sudden fall shooting up your legs. Your already throbbing stab wound angrily screaming in pain. The pain killers had yet to kick in after all. You knew there were developing bruises where his fingertips had been, the pain was fresh but not as alarming as the agony in your leg. You grabbed the couches arm rest for support, not looking to the men. You could feel the torn muscle shift with the fall, you had to hold back a gag, your stomach churning dangerously.

You didn't hear Brian turn to leave but after a few moments of staring aimlessly into the couch cushions trying to regain your composure, you looked up. Brian walked around Toby, who at some point had come from the hall and stood at the entrance of the living room. You couldn't tell if he was curious about the fight that was somewhat over him or if he just wanted to see your ass get kicked.

Either way you snarled at him and repeated his earlier sentiment, "What the fuck are you looking at?"

"A sstuh-stupid bitch." He huffed out, though there was amusement in his eyes. He was happy you were in pain, the little sadistic fuck. 

Toby turned back into the hall, leaving you and Tim alone. You didn't hear the angry slam of a door this time. Your spat with Brian must have satiated his anger somewhat. Though you could all relate to each other, you knew that this was a new development. They probably still got enjoyment out of you in pain. 

You looked to Tim, who looked absolutely _exasperated_. Either he hadn't slept well, he was tired of all of you, or both. Maybe he didn't have the energy to be pissed off before his morning coffee. No matter what though, seeing Tim looking tired and annoyed over smug and angry was a jarring experience. 

"Sit back down. I'll change your bandages after I have a cup'a coffee." Tim looked you in the eye without thinly veiled embarrassment. He looked like shit but he kept a cool head for the sake of the group. He really was the leader after all.

You could have sworn you heard him murmur a, "Fuckin' bitch." Under his breath. Either at the trouble you caused him or the insults you haphazardly threw at all of them. You were tired of being insulted over and over, especially being called a bitch. You knew they didn't see you as a woman and the insult was directed towards the fact that at first they acted like you were a dog. Still felt a bit misogynistic. 

You idly nodded in response, sliding yourself over the armrest. Pulling yourself forth with your arms, trying your best to not move your injured leg. By the time you had settled into a comfortable position, your throbbing leg laying across the couch, Tim had disappeared into the kitchen once more. 

This really sucked. Obviously. You were pissed, trapped living with men who had crusty skin, and with a stab wound in your thigh. You wanted to hit something. You'd never been the type to take your anger out in the form of breaking things, you weren't a white teenage boy named Kyle after all. Still, you wanted to hit something. Preferably, any of their stupid fucking faces but especially Brian's.

Unfortunately for you, there was nothing to punch except pillows. You considered the idea of hitting them for a few moments before deciding against it. It'd leave you unsatisfied, wanting the real thing. 

Tim took his sweet time in the kitchen, probably just angrily simmering while he nursed his coffee. You just had to sit on the couch, alone with your resentful thoughts. You'd have to pester Tim about giving you something to keep yourself busy with. It wasn't like you go outside on a walk with a leg wound. They probably wouldn't leave you alone, if they let you outside in the first place. Though, they knew you had nowhere to go but you had proven to be quite bullheaded. Maybe they had something you could read. They seemed like they had a lot of time to kill, waiting for their _missions_. You hoped if they had books lying around, it wouldn't be shit like 'Moby-Dick' or 'The Catcher in the Rye'. Your high school English teachers always preached about how they were classic literature, must reads. They were a drag to read and you'd prefer not to go through that again. However, if it took your mind off of the men, you'd read it, begrudgingly. 

When he did exit the kitchen, he looked less like a walking corpse and more like himself: generally grumpy and annoying. He said nothing as he entered the hall, walking past you. You assumed he entered the bathroom to grab bandages. Your assumption proved correct when he entered the room, a wad of white bandages in one fist and a bottle in the other.

You noticed that he wasn't wearing the pajamas you'd seen him in before. Grey sweats and a solid colored gray t-shirt, simple and lazy. Then, you remembered that The Operator had ripped them to shreds in a punishment that Tim didn't talk about or really acknowledge. A part of you was glad he kept you in the dark about it, probably best if you didn't know. On the other hand, the unknown is a terrifying concept, letting your mind theorize about all the horrible shit it could do to you.

You had nothing to say, if you did, you'd keep your mouth shut as a way of repaying of his favor of getting Brian to put you down. Even though it ended up fucking up your leg, you were still free from the bear of a man's grasp. 

As he approached you had to force yourself not to look already annoyed by his presence and permanent smell of menthol and smoke. Tim was an asshole, but he was an asshole who saved your skin and was about to help you with your bandages. You wouldn't put it passed him to just leave you there, bored with unchanged bandages if you started being snotty with him.

You shifted, pushing yourself to sit up more, back and forearms resting against the armrest. You were still tense from your encounter with Brian, angry and afraid. As much as you were going to be an asshole to men, they were still all you got, besides Goober. 

You knew the dog was still chomping away at his breakfast in the kitchen. You idly wondered if Brian got his favorite brand of dog food as Tim knelt down before the couch. 

He looked to the bandage on your leg with a sigh, "He really got you good, huh?" You could see the little smile on his lips. Asshole, however at least he wasn't immediately lecturing you about Brian. "I'm not very good with this kinda thing. You probably shouldn't have pissed off Brian." There it is!

With his attention turned to the bandage, you were in the clear to roll your eyes. He was right though, picking a fight with the man just because you were in a bad mood was a poor choice. Especially the man who had the most medical knowledge and was generally the hardest to piss off. 

With a huff, you watched with a bit of morbid curiosity as Tim pulled the bandage from your skin. You winced, seeing brown dried blood with a small amount of fresher deep red blood. You should have looked away but you didn't, you'd seen plenty of gore in your life unfortunately. The area around the slit was a pinkish-red, looking the most irritated at the mouth of the slit and around the thin stitches holding your skin together. 

"Since when have I ever been known to make good decisions?" You spoke, tearing your gaze from your leg. You'd seen plenty of peoples insides on the outside, but it still made your skin crawl. Making you think to all the people you'd killed or who you'd known who died horribly. 

Tim set the dirty bandages on the coffee table behind him. That had to be unsanitary, you hoped that he'd wipe the surface down when he was done.

Unscrewing the bottle, he began, "Yeah you're right. You are kinda dumb." It was an insult sure but he didn't say it with as much venom as you were used to. Though you could tell that he was still miffed about your spat with Brian, he wasn't going to be exactly very kind to you. That's fine, you were used to it. You were both like that, both assholes.

"Just kinda?" You let out a half-hearted laugh as he slowly tipped the bottle toward your wound. You assumed it was to clean the wound, but you were unsure if that's how he was supposed to go about it.

"Very dumb." Tim deadpanned, correcting his mistake, the small smile still lingering on his stubbly face. 

He poured the clear liquid onto your aching wound. Though the pain killers were starting to kick in, they didn't block out the explosion of pain that your sensitive nerves experienced when met with whatever cleaning agent Tim was using. With a yelp, yous hands shot forward, instinctively reaching out for the wound. 

Tim blocked your hands from the wound with a forearm and a warning glare. He knew you were in agony but he was still miffed about what you'd said to Brian, what you said about all of you. 

"Don't be such a fuckin' baby." He grunted as you pulled your hands away. The wound throbbed as your nerves screamed in agony. Your leg was quaking, tears were welling up in your eyes. 

"Don't be such a fucking dickhead." You sniffled out, hands clutching the couch cushions. You intended to tone down your asshole levels for awhile but this was Tim you were talking about. It was impossible to be somewhat civil with him for more then five minutes. 

He looked like he was considering punching you in the face for a good few seconds before preparing a clean bandage to slap over the wound. "Don't blame Toby for how he's acting today." Everyone was so concerned with him all the time. You wondered why Tim brought up the topic, maybe he had to bring up a more serious topic to keep himself from beating your face in.

"B.P.D, I get it." You droned out the information. "I get that you both care about him but," Tim shot you a glare, a threat to keep in line, "You can imagine how I'm feeling." You forced yourself to speak more constructively, like Tim was your therapist, "My life sucks mad dick right now. Whole thing kinda got uprooted, if you hadn't noticed." You clicked your tongue, eyes twitching in irritation from the tears that had yet to spill, "It's not like I'm a victim either. I knew what I was doing when I," You didn't want to say it, the words felt like hot bile on your tongue, "Killed Doug. I just-" You bit the inside of your lip looking away from your leg, from Tim. "I'm think anyone would be more irritable than usual in my situation."

Tim considered your words a moment before you felt the firm pressing of a bandage onto your leg. "Yeah, I do." He sighed, the intense pain slowly beginning to die down, " **He's** been around me my entire life. You'll always be more than a lil pissy, trust me. It doesn't get much better than this." His words were bitterly pessimistic. 

"Your entire life?" You turned back to him. You'd only gotten a few tidbits of information on their origins, you found yourself absorbing whatever information they fed to you like a sponge.

Tim only sighed at your words, it was an obvious sore spot, "Yeah. As long as I can remember." He let out a sour laugh, "It only got worse, actually. The only good thing I've got left is them." You didn't think of him as the mushy type, then he ruined the moment, "That's why, if you keep on insulting them like that I'll break your arms." He spat, squeezing the newly bandaged wound. "You got me?" He gave you a smile, filled with hate.

You didn't want broken arms but you weren't going to make a promise you knew you wouldn't keep. You opted to change the subject, "You got any books?"

He tilted his head, raising his brows in disbelief at your ballsy attempt to dodge the question. He lightly smacked the bandaged wound, "Yeah. Do you want something to read?" 

Your lips forms a line as you eyed him, he spoke the words out too eagerly. He was waiting for you to admit that you did, just so he could deny you. "I can't read. Can't take you up on your, _oh so kind_ , offer." You retorted with a fake smile.

His lip was twitching, wanting to curl into a snarl but he controlled himself, "Should'a known your dumb ass can't read." He stood up from his spot, not before grabbing the dirtied bandages from the coffee table. "Anyway, I'm gonna go read. Have fun out here," He turned and began to walk away, "On your own," You could hear the smile in his voice, "Doin' nothing." He disappeared into the hall.

You glared at the hall as you heard him move around, putting things away in the bathroom before going to his room. He was wrong, you realized with the sound of soft clicking on tile. With an elated gasp you looked to the entrance to the kitchen, you held out your arms with a, "Come'ere big guy!" You spoke the words in a hushed whisper, afraid a spiteful Brian would stomp out of his room and steal your dog away.

You were more aware of your flesh wound this time around, as he bounded over, you slapped a hand over the throbbing wound. It was a precaution that took one of your hands away from the privilege of running it through his soft fur. With a grin you realized, there was a whole couch Goober could lay on and not step on your wound. You carefully adjusted yourself, no longer half laying on the couch but sitting in the middle of it. You lightly slapped the black cushion beside you, the dog picking up on the obvious sign to sit next to you with tail lashing to and fro. He hopped up onto the couch, cushion sinking beneath his weight.

Goober walked in tight circles a few moments before settling down, looking up at you with big eyes that basically plead ' _pet me!'_ You instantly complied with a genuine smile at the only living thing in your life that could make you feel loved. You assumed that Sully hated you now, realizing the truth, that you were a crazy bitch who just sometimes killed people. Kinda sad that the only thing for miles that still loved you was a dog. But its your dog, it's Goober. 

The men had their tight bonds and they were still reluctant to let you completely in on it. You felt the same, still disgusted by them and all of the things they had put you through. Nonetheless, Goober was the only one in the house who truly cared for you, besides yourself. 

With a heavy sigh, you wrapped your arms around him, sinking into his fur. You idly spun fur between your fingers as you nuzzled into him. You were tempted to close your eyes, fall asleep and drift off to a less shitty world. If you slept you'd miss out on perfectly good time with Goober. You knew he missed you and you missed him.

Most of all, you missed feeling loved and cared for. You weren't going to let a golden opportunity like this slip by.


	26. 25 - Warm Touch, Warm Blood

Yesterday had slipped through your fingers. Time seemed to slow down at the men's cabin but yesterday went by so fast, too fast. You weren't sure how long you had left here. If you'd be stuck with these boys forever and all your days would be like this, or if you'd be dead soon, rejected by the puppet master. Either way, you had spent the rest of the day quietly cuddling Goober, he gave to the soft and fuzzies, a sense of belonging. You may have cried into his fur but he somewhat understood emotional distress and did his best to make you feel better. It came in the form of licks to face, little whines, and best of all, was the entire hour you'd both spent playing fetch with the spoon you'd eaten your breakfast from.

Then Brian came out of his room, mid-afternoon you believed, and stole Goober away. He didn't acknowledge your presence other than look at the spoon in Goober's mouth, remove the makeshift toy, and put it in the kitchen sink with a huff. You spent the rest of the day laying on the couch, twiddling your fingers, and counting all the snags in the carpet. 

Sleep had been a reprieve, but you could only sleep so much while being constantly on edge. The likelihood of them doing any real physical harm to you was lowered with your 'bonding', but it was never zero. The business twink could reject you at any second and you'd be fair game. You tried to sleep as much as possible, despite how vulnerable it left you. You reasoned with yourself that they wouldn't hurt you in your sleep because you know that they savor the look of fear in your eyes, if they were going to kill you, they'd want you awake. Despite you being somewhat of a companion, you were still something to be toyed with. It wasn't fine but you still saw them as disgusting monsters, while being one yourself. You were still different, because you weren't a proxy, and you were new.

**_Thud_**

You jolted awake, eyes snapping open wide, breath catching in your throat. You shot up from lying on your back, scrambling to prop yourself up. You always dreaded seeing them, but you couldn't stand to see them in their work attire. It brought back memories of dried blood beneath your fingernails. Your face being so crusted over that you couldn't differentiate between bits of flesh, blood, and tears, in the slightest. 

When Toby exited the hall, donning his brown hoodie, face mask pulled over his disfigured mouth, circles of orange that haunted your dreams covering his eyes, and two blood free hatchets hanging from his belt loops, you gasped. You couldn't look away as you pushed yourself back, your hands were shaking, your dry eyes threatened to let tears slip. 

Henry's oozing brains rolling down his torso, the rusty hatchet at his right side that buried itself into Jen's back, the pictures of Dan's decapitated corpse. Visceral images flooded your mind, you had nothing witty to say, you could barely breathe as you stared at him. 

"Hey." Toby snapped at you, still sounding pretty grumpy, "What th-the fuck are you-ou looking at?" You wished he'd look away from you. He didn't take his goggled eyes off of you, rolling his shoulders back over and over. 

You looked away first, you knew it was an act of submission but you couldn't take it. You weren't okay very much these days but you still wanted to be as okay as possible. Looking at him dressed like that made your stomach churn and heart thunder dangerously in your rib cage.

You knew he was still looking at you, unmoving besides his tics. They could hurt you anytime they wanted, they didn't need a specific dress to do so, but your stupid trauma ridden brain acted on its own. You had a good idea that he was heading out to do a job. To kill some poor sonnovabitch. You were just hoping that he wouldn't take steps toward you, you were hopelessly betting on him mercifully not wanting to scare you further. You knew though, that he was heavily considering it.

"Th-that's what I thuh-thought." He grunted out before you heard a series of fading ' _thuds'_ before the door screeched open and shut. 

He was gone. You were okay. You put your head in your hands and couldn't stop crying, finally taking gasping breaths between sobs. 

_"You."_

You tore your head from the comfort of your palms, the comfort of not being able to see your shitty surroundings. Standing in the middle of the living room was Brian. You were tired of him in general, but especially the fact that he could mask his presence like it wasn't even shit. 

You didn't respond, you just stared at his hands, each one loosely holding a gun. What you believed to be a belt was lazily slung over one shoulder, crossing his torso and hanging above his hip. There were little compartments littering the thing but the most alarming thing, was the small loops in the belt that held a series of bullets yet to be fired. He wasn't in the hoodie that you associated with his work attire, the hoodie he was wearing was plain black, he wasn't here to kill you. You were still petrified for the second time today, you dumbly stared at someone wielding weapons with your heart thundering in your chest.

"I know you can walk. Get up." Brian flatly commanded after a few moments of taking in your face. You weren't ashamed of crying in the slightest but you hated the fact that he was probably immensely satisfied by you being upset.

It was true. You could walk, albeit very slowly. You'd hobbled to and from the bathroom on your own yesterday. It was somewhat freeing but still scared the shit out of you. At the time you wondered if they'd punish you for the simple act of moving about the house on your own. They didn't seem to care as none of them exited their rooms to stop you.

Still eyeing the weapons in his hands, you shifted to stand up. Your brain was a little too fried to be an asshole, at least for a few minutes. As you shakily stood, Brian waiting for you to follow him, you asked, "Where are we going?"

"Somewhere." He deadpanned, as helpful as ever. "Come on." His words were flat but they still terrifying. What if he shot you for going too slow? You knew it was just your anxiety screaming at you but still, you couldn't stop shaking, you couldn't stop the your thudding heart.

You stumbled forward a few steps before steadying yourself out. You carefully approached him, not looking to his face but you had a feeling there was some sort of sign of satisfaction upon it. As soon as you were a few feet away, he turned and entered the kitchen. You followed, understanding the quiet cue. 

Your muscles were tense, your skin hyper-aware of every little shift of fabric from your clothing. He held the front door open, eyes boring into the top of your head as you passed by him. Pausing, you turned, finally building yourself back up mentally, looking him in the eye, trying to seem as bored as possible. 

Brian let the door fall shut behind him, staring you down before turning on his heel. You followed him, grass crunching beneath your feet that were only protected by thin socks. Being outside was deeply refreshing, the air fresh, a slight breeze, sunshine on your face. You'd smile if you didn't have to slowly hobble after a killer, a gun in each of his hands. You followed him around the house, entering into a trail that was free of flora and fauna. It was traveled often, even seeming somewhat managed, branches and such that would have smacked into them had been cut away. 

Brian was a lot of things, and you hated eachother literally so much, but he was considerate to your wound. To the fact that walking fast wasn't your strong suit at the moment. He made no indication to tell you not to run, either because he knew you probably couldn't or confidence in the fact that you wouldn't try again. You wouldn't, but the man's silent acknowledgment of your hopelessness only made you more miserable. 

You didn't try to chat with him the entire walk. Out of fear, emotional exhaustion, and wanting to enjoy the sounds of nature around you. Birds chirping, leaves rustling in the breeze, the soft crunching of compacted dirt beneath your feet. It was so peaceful, beautiful, too much for your circumstances. 

The path suddenly opened to a wide open clearing. An uneven circle of grass, framed by trees and bushes. Brian didn't stop when he entered the clearing, you didn't either, following the man. You took your eyes off the guns in his hands, the back of the strap that was wrapped around his torso. You took in the beautiful sight, mind wandering away from life's absolute bullshit for a few moments. 

Your slow gait was interrupted by a thud. You were so entranced with the forest around you that you hadn't noticed Brian had stopped. You collided with him, immediately stumbling back with a gasp. Reality dragging you back into its dripping maw. Your collision with him didn't affect him in the slightest as you were walking at a snails pace and a little more than a head shorter than him. 

Your first instinct from trying to be a good person was to apologize for bumping into him but you pushed the words down. You just swallowed the thick lump in your throat and steadied yourself. He just stared down at you, no amused huff leaving him, he didn't want to be around you as much as you didn't want to be around him. Not even to torment you. Now _that_ was hatred!

Spinning a gun in his hand, holding it by its barrel, the handle out for you to take. You stared dumbly at the weapon, you knew what he wanted but you didn't know if you could bring yourself to take it. The last time you held a gun, you stole it from a cop roasting alive, you shot his already dying body in a manic state of desperation and clouded fear. Then you tried to kill yourself out of spite, you weren't exactly excited to see a firearm. Not to mention all the holes you'd seen put in people by them, mostly Alexis. Your mind quickly flashed the image of her slumped over body, a bloody cavity dripping in her chest.

You heard him let out a huff, you assumed it was out of annoyance. If you had the emotional energy to bite back, you'd sarcastically apologize for being traumatized by guns. The guns handle was shoved into the palm of your dominant hand, not wanting to drop the firearm as he let go of it, your fingers wrapped around the rough grip. Your hand fell slightly, the weight heavy in your hand, and the weight of your sins heavy on your back. Your non dominant hand slapped itself on the guns handle as well, gripping around your other hands fingers. 

"The safety," You looked to the man talking with wide eyes, "Is right here." He tapped the side of the gun, showing you where the little switch was. He held the gun in one hand like it wasn't a weapon that could instantly put your sorry ass down. "Turn it off." 

You looked to the gun once more, wondering why he was showing you this. Was he going to make you shoot yourself or something? Were you going to have some sort of shitty western standoff in the woods? You'd totally lose. 

Your non dominant hand shakily shifted, putting more of the guns weight into your dominant hand as your fingers shook, slowly switching off the safety with a ' _click'._ The sound was soft but it made you jump, a shiver running down your spine. 

"See those cans?" His voice had you snapping your eyes from the gun, to his apathetic face that was pointed away from you, to the rotted fenced posts across the clearing littered with can. Some cans were crumpled, some were free of any sort of damage. "Try to shoot one." 

"What?" You knew what he said, your hearing was completely fine but you didn't understand. He got nothing out of this other than being around you, which you knew he didn't want to be.

"It's considering you," Brian recited the information you knew all too well, "You might as well try to learn _something."_ He was obviously referring the whole killing people business, in order to do that, you needed a weapon. With a sigh he admitted, "You're resourceful but not very strong," True but you didn't appreciate the sentiment, "A gun is your best option. Unless you _want_ to get hands on." His words were even but you picked up on the underlying message as he side eyed you, he was referring to your murders, that you always were so needlessly brutal, that you were no better than any of them. 

You held your arms in front of you, trying your best to lock your elbows. Your arms couldn't stop shaking, the gun quaking violently in your hands, you were too afraid to put a finger near the trigger. You needed to calm down. You were ready to start being annoying again, for your own sake.

"You're strong." You bluntly stated, willing your eyes to focus on the cans, "Why do you use guns?" The dull ache in your shoulder felt accentuated by the words. Brian was a fucking juggernaut of a man, he took some enjoyment in killing, in tormenting. So why use the weapon that was usually the least up close and personal? Then again, he could just shoot people point blank. He wasn't stupid though, guns were a weapon of distance, so you wouldn't doubt his targets weren't always shot point blank through the tit like Alexis had been.

From your peripherals, he side eyed you, "I prefer them. That's all." He wasn't one for words unless he was pissed at you. The air was tense, you both had guns. He probably knew that you were contemplating shooting him. You didn't want to test him, he seemed to be at his wits end with you yesterday. 

You couldn't take it, the thick air, the tension was ruining the little peace the nature around you brought. You were doing this for yourself, not for his feelings. Though, it'd benefit you for him to not be as tempted to shoot you in the chest. With a shaky sigh, a finger peeled itself off of the guns grip, preparing to wrap around the trigger. 

"We both have guns." You began shakily, still trying to steady your wobbly arms.

"How astute of you." Brian flatly replied, with a tone of ' _get to the point already'_.

"You're a better shot than me. I don't want to fight." A spark of weak spite pushed the words out, you spoke with fear and disgust. He was only a good shot because he'd had so much practice on moving targets, people. He was a straight forward person, he didn't speak so you'd get your message across faster. You didn't look at him as you spoke, not speaking with much truth or earnestly. "So," You forced yourself to sound a bit more chipper, "I'm going to apologize. I'm sorry about yesterday." You blurted out the words, bitter on your tongue. Even though it wasn't entirely earnest, you were only sorry because your words got you fucked up. "You're welcome." You huffed out with a faux cockiness, making yourself feel just a little bit less shameful at apologizing to the guy who was violent towards you. 

Brian shoved his own gun in his hoodie pocket, which had to be unsafe. He approached you with a straight face and relaxed hands. Your breath still caught in your throat, it took every ounce of your self control to not instinctively point the gun at him. 

He walked to your side, putting his hands on your hips and turning you to the side. You could feel the fabric of his hoodie brush up against your back. A foot lightly tapped at the side of your back-most leg, "You're supposed to stand like this." He flatly informed, voice lowered, hushed. You adjusted your leg to his direction, you'd stopped shaking as much but your heart pounded in your chest. You supposed him teaching you how to shoot properly, instead of you doing trial and error was his way of accepting your shallow apology, of letting you know he didn't want to see you struggle. His hands removed themselves from your sides but you didn't relax at all, painfully aware of his soft breath on your neck. He must have bent down to be on your level.

One hand followed the form of your dominant arm, while the other snaked behind your body to properly grab your other hand. His hands found the backs of yours, firmly readjusting your grip on the weapon. His hands were steady compared to the slight quake of yours. His touch wasn't angry as it was yesterday, but it was still stiff and not at all friendly. "Bend your elbow." Your non-dominant arm was nudged into a more relaxed position while your other arm stayed straight. "Try aiming now."

You were conflicted, happy that he was taking the time to teach you a craft you'd likely need. A craft that'd kill people from a distance, you wouldn't need to get up close and personal. You could hide away, shoot from a distance, kill like a coward. He was once new to killing, he probably projected the fact that he wished someone was there to ease him into the art of killing innocent people. There was also the fact that his body was practically wrapped around yours, not touching you in a way that conveyed his desire to murder you but not very tender either, a slight tension hanging around the both of you. If you were conflicted about your situation then you wouldn't doubt that so was he.

You weren't exactly experienced with shooting. The guns weight was an accursed one, reminding you of bad things, reminding you of the things you'd yet to do. You had to do your best, for a sense of accomplishment of doing something right, as dopamine was hard to come by these days. If you were to become one of them, you'd rather kill someone instantly with a shot to a vital organ or the head rather than miss, shooting them multiple times in the extremities on accident and giving them a longer, painful death. 

You'd seen a few action movies in your life, you let Brain steady your hands while you shut one eye, trying to aim down the rear sight. You told yourself that you were doing this for the good of the people you may have to kill, for yourself, you didn't want to hear begging, pleading. You also wanted to feel hot and cool by shooting a can, like a white country boy, to release the pent up aggression and anger just underneath your skin. With a shaky exhale, you wrapped a finger around the trigger and squeezed.

**_B A N G !_**

The gun kicked back in your hands, it would have strained your wrists if Brian's strong hands weren't there to steady your shaky ones. The flash from the guns muzzle, the crack of the bullet firing, it was alarming. The second the bullet left the gun, you jumped, grip loosening, a gasping inhale leaving your lips. Brian kept the weapon in your hands, holding your apprehensive body steady. He was being nice actually, as nice as a cold-blooded killer could be. You still hated him but he took pity on you. Out of whatever fucked up shred of empathy or kinship he had for you, he was teaching you to shoot. Part of you didn't want to, to keep talking to him. The human decency in you wanted to clear the tense air, just a bit more, you felt that you owed him more sincere words, since he was helping you after all.

The can had flown back from the fence post and to somewhere unseen. The bullet didn't hit it dead center, it got the bottom of the can at an odd angle, only because Brian was helping you aim. However, you still put effort in, it wasn't all him, it was just mostly him.

It was dopamine of doing something somewhat right and the fucked up shred of gratitude that made you open your mouth, "I'd beat my ass too." You meant to say a simple 'thank you' but instead you found yourself telling him personal details that he probably knew anyway. He only hummed in response, letting you talk while you attempted to aim at another can, you could feel his intense gaze on you. "If someone insulted my buddies like that." You were tempted to say family or loved ones, that's what they seemed like. You avoided the mushier words. With a bitter laugh, you continued with one eye shut, "I got real defensive over Jen like that in high school. Not to the extent that you do but still, I get it." You recalled the memories with a sour twinge, she was dead and gone. Still, you could relate. All the times you stood up to Dan for her, taking the brunt of his anger, taking the fists to the face, willing to follow her to the ends of the earth. 

She was gone, the girl you'd do anything for. She died four years ago with her hands around yours. You both grew up, you both changed. After growing up, you changed once more, her dying and you living on, full of hate and fear. You needed to let go of her, the girl you fell in love with, the rage you felt at her death, at your lackluster parting.

With Jen's sixteen year old, smiling face in mind, you pulled the trigger.

_**B A N G !**_

Bullseye. The can shot back, thin metal contorting into itself as it flew back. 

You weren't going to hide you elation at the bullseye. It completely washed over Jen's corpse for a moment, and you spoke with an easy smile, " _Nice."_ Without Brian's help you could have been about fifteen feet off but you still pulled the trigger and kinda aimed, it somewhat counted. 

With an amused huff Brian spoke, "Not bad." Praise from the coldest motherfucker you'd ever met? Unreal. His vague validation filled you with confidence. "Try it on your own."

His presence was suddenly gone. Hands off your skin and out of your view, if you didn't know him as someone who could disappear even if he was right next to you, you would have looked over your shoulder, thinking that he'd turned to air.

"Prepare to have your tiny mind blown." You kept the position he'd adjusted you into while you aimed the gun at the next can on the fences. Your hands weren't shaking anymore. Either from haughty confidence or Brian's steadying. You were determined to hit the can, you wanted more of that sweet, sweet dopamine and maybe some validation from Brian. Though he was a wretched thing, he was a good shot, you knew from personal experience. You just needed another human to tell you that you were good at something. You wanted more compliments.

**_B A N G !_**

Your hands harshly kicked back but your grip on the gun was firm with your momentary confidence. You had no idea where the bullet went but it didn't hit a can, fence post, or tree. The thing was gone. 

"My mind's been blown by how bad of a shot you are." You couldn't see him but you knew he was smiling. It was an earned wisecrack at your momentarily inflated ego. You found yourself smiling at it, you deserved that and should have seen it coming.

"Touche." You began aiming again, thoughts sinking into darker places, and after a few seconds you spoke. "Must be nice. Having people you care about that much. People going through the same sick shit that you did." You spoke while aiming to the best of your ability. Your mind drifted to Jen, how you couldn't comfort one another after Isaac, how you couldn't tell anyone. How you struggled alone, a burning secret in the pit of your belly at all times. You just had to grow up, acting like a normal person, being unable to talk to or tell anybody. The thoughts made you bitter, you pulled the trigger.

**_B A N G !_**

The can weakly fell against the grass behind the fence. The bullet just barley nicked its lid. You hit it! Hardly, but you did it!

" _Hell yeah baby!"_ You obnoxiously shouted at your achievement. At first you thought it pitiful then you remembered, it was a small object a few yards away. That was damn good.

Brian let out what you think was a content hum. "It's nice." 

That was all he gave you as you did your best to aim once more.

_**B A N G !**_

Another miss. Your shoulders slacked down in disappointment, it was childish. Getting huffy over missing a can, in your 'murder puppet' training. Either way, you enjoyed it more than you thought you would. It gave you a sense of power and achievement. A weapon you could turn on Brian at any time, though you wouldn't. Hitting a can somewhat on your own. Not having a breakdown at the crack of a gunshot. 

"If it chooses you, you'll have that. You'll have us." He was referring to companions to fully relate to. It was a bitter reminder, underhandedly also telling you that you both weren't friends, just begrudging companions. "People you truly care for. So much so, that you'd pin any loudmouth to a wall over poorly thought out insults." You couldn't argue with that, your insults were pretty weak, grasping at straws. "Sorry about that, by the way." He apologized lightheartedly like it was a friendly joke between you both.

You didn't find it to be very funny at the time and it definitely wasn't water under the bridge. Brian apologizing wasn't exactly expected but you were content to get one. It wouldn't take back the bruises on your shoulders but it was a start. _Start to what?_ Your mind quickly shot to the true connotations of your activities. This wasn't supposed to be fun or make you feel more whole, this was training if you were to become one of them. Though it was bonding, Brian seemed a little less like a dick. He was helping you out despite your quarrel. 

You wanted to feel comfort, company, people to relate to, people to laugh with. You were all bad people, as much as you'd like to deny it, you were. You'd never been able to truly relate to other people around you, not since before Isaac. Now there was an opportunity laid out before you at the whim of an eldritch twig. You'd have no say in if you joined them or not, but could you adjust as they had just because of their company. Would you really let yourself melt into their company, comforted by the fact that you all sucked but you sucked together? 

You didn't want to think about it anymore. You shook off the thoughts of your grim future with a squeeze of a trigger.

**_B A N G !_**

You didn't notice the hours pass. Shooting at, setting up, and missing cans. There were suddenly the elongated shadows of trees that came with the setting sun and the end of your training. 

The power you felt with the gun in your hand made you completely forget about that fact that you had a stab wound. Even after you'd returned the firearm to Brian. It quickly punished you for your foolishness with a sharp pain in your thigh as you walked a bit too fast. Brian turned his head over his shoulder, looking your way, pausing his walk back to the cabin. You appreciated him waiting up for you. Either over your slowly forming bond over shooting shit or the fact that he didn't trust you enough to walk very far away from you. 

You quickly recovered, giving him a halfhearted thumbs up. When he turned back around you felt guilt wash over you. Bonding with and being jokingly friendly with the killer was wrong. Yet you needed it, you needed the bonding, as selfish as it as, as much as it went against all things right. You needed it. You told your moral compass to fuck off, all it did was further weigh your already depressed self down. You just wanted to feel somewhat okay for five minutes.

He had to work. Just like Toby had left in his work _uniform_ earlier that morning, Brian had to leave in his. The same rifle he'd shot Alexis's titties off was strapped to his back, you watched him warily from your place on the couch. Tim had snidely told him something along the lines of, "I'd want to be in your position after being around her all day." It was rude but you got it. You weren't afraid to acknowledge that at times, you could be insufferable. 

Tim had turned in for bed early. You don't know what he'd done all day but whatever it'd been, it tired him out. He told you to not run off or he'd break your shins as he locked himself in his room for the night. The threat was somewhat hollow, somewhat joking. You found yourself smiling at it, knowing he wouldn't get his wish of you running off. Depriving him of a good excuse to break your bones. 

You were still disgusted with yourself but you were starting to bite the bullet. Only starting to, you hadn't completely accepted the men into your heart. You still hated each and every one of them but they sucked a lot less today. For once, you relaxed into the couch with an easy smile, thinking of you meager achievements and not of the blood on your hands.

Your peace only lasted a few minutes before the front door opened and quickly fell shut. Loud, stumbling footfalls filled your ears. You shot up from your slouched position to one more alert, back straight and eyes on the doorway to the kitchen. The stumbling footfalls quickly recovered, turning into a casual walk. 

When he came into the room your heart skipped a beat. You didn't notice what was obviously wrong, you could only focus his goggles, once bright orange, now splattered with deep reds. Today had been a good day, as good as you'd had so far but with the entrance of a very blood soaked Toby, every little victory of the day fell away. If you still had contact with Maurice, your old therapist, he would reassure you that progress is not linear, that one bad event wasn't the end of your life, that you were allowed to have episodes, but you didn't. All the good seemed to melt away and all that remained was fear.

You pushed yourself to your feet, a dull ache shooting forth from the wound. The seasoned survivalist in you kicking in as you ignored the pain. You had nowhere to run, his body was blocking the entrance to the kitchen. You considered going out of Brian's bedroom window once more, but you doubted you'd make it. 

"He-hey (Y/n)." Toby's voice was muffled by his face mask, just as it had been that night. It was different this time, there was no sadistic glee, it was more casual, like you were friends. 

You blinked at him, mouth agape and dry. He cracked his head to his shoulder, you flinched. You knew what he was, what he'd done, but you couldn't stand to see him in his horrible uniform, splattered with blood. Yet another horrible reminder of that night. 

"Oh!" Toby clicked his tongue, realizing after way too long that you were frozen in place by his outfit. A single hand tugged down his face mask, revealing his smile and his gash, clean of blood. You were still processing his bloody form and didn't notice as he lifted his googles up into his hair. You hadn't seen him in his false face for days, but it felt like being thrown back into the past, back to the cabin.

Your heart thundered in your chest, sending adrenaline through your veins, you could do this, you could get away. 

"(Y/n)?" Toby's voice ripped you from your thoughts of desperate escape. Two large circles of clean skin, framed by soft indents into his skin, revealed his concerned eyes to you. Most of his face was clean of blood, save for his forehead, upper cheeks, and nose. You knew that face, you knew Toby. He was scary and had hurt you before, but you knew that your time wasn't up yet. Your momentary panic died down, you didn't have to run from him. Though you'd prefer not to see him like this, covered in blood, missing his entire left arm. Wait.

_"TOBY! YOUR FUCKING ARM!"_ The survivalist in you hadn't completely died out just yet. Gone was the final girl, ready to fight and run. You'd seen so many people torn to shreds in your life, you being unable to help. You _had_ to help him, your panicked brain completely forgot his condition, the fact that he was impossibly okay at the moment.

"My ah-arm!" Toby echoed with a smile, pointing to the stump of his left shoulder. Seeing someone who you were very used to having two arms walk into a room with one, is a jarring experience to say the least. However, seeing said person missing an arm but where the appendage was ripped off, a stump of muscle and blood, is even worse.

You quickly crossed the room, going into a state of panic, not for you but for him. How was he still standing? Shouldn't he have passed out from shock or blood loss by now? He could answer your many questions when he wasn't spurting blood from the stump hanging from his shoulder. The fabric of his hoodie had obviously been ripped off with the arm, some of the remnants of his sleeve hung over the exposed tissue. Soaked in red and barely censoring any of the profusely bleeding muscle.

" _Oh my god! Are you okay!?"_ The question was an wholly unnecessary but you asked it anyway. You snatched his left shoulder, taking in the horrible sight with a look of shock.

"Huh?" He turned his head to you, brows raised with a mischievous smile, "Wh-what are tuh-talking about?"

He was pulling your leg obviously, he knew damn well his entire arm was missing. He was cool with it and amused at your distress, mostly because it was aimed at him, for him.

You let out a jumbled mess of words, making an incoherent babble of noise as you processed his words and his wound. The it hit you. He was fine. He couldn't feel it and he'd recovered from other horrible shit, this was a regular Wednesday night for him. Well, maybe not regular, more like, every third Wednesday, bimonthly for him.

Shuddering with a relieved sigh, your grip lessened but you didn't let him go. You were still distressed, worried. You knew he'd be fine, he didn't need help at all. Yet you were human and still had some sense of empathy in you. You were far from a good person and you knew it, you just wanted to feel like one just for awhile, even it if was pointless. Also, you were sure the other boys wouldn't want puddled blood stains on their carpet.

You were calmer knowing he was completely fine but it was still deeply alarming. With an exasperated sigh, mostly at yourself for what you were about to do, you began, "Come on. Let's head to the bathroom, you're getting blood on the carpet." Releasing his shoulder, you grabbed his gloved right hand. Cringing at the soft wet ' _squelch'_ the fabric made when you squeezed his hand tight. 

He'd be fine on his own but you wanted to feel better about yourself. Maybe it was just that you needed reassurance that he was still there, that he was fine and that you were fine. You tugged Toby along, heart still racing from the initial adrenaline rush and seeing a man without an entire arm. You heard a giggle from behind you, he probably wasn't excepting concern but he didn't seem to be complaining.

You flicked on the bathroom light, shooting a glance over your shoulder at the one armed boy behind you. He was stupidly grinning, you hissed out a huff at him. If he got some amusement out of your attempt to make you feel better about yourself, then so be it. You'd both get something out of it. You were still ashamed that they were your only company, however you were begging to swallow the pill that told you that you needed this, human contact. 

"Get in the shower." You pulled him beside said shower, reluctantly letting go of his hand. It was nice, holding hands. You shook the thought away, though you needed it, you were practically throwing yourself at Toby. 

He drew the shower curtains open, "Ss-so do you wah-want me to sstuh-strip or?" You knew he was fine but you were having a hard time wrapping your head around the fact, his stump just kept on bleeding and bleeding. Him fucking around only further hammered in the fact that he was completely okay. 

"No!" You barked as the boy stepped into the shower.

"Th-then what do you wah-want me to do?" He sounded as confused as he was amused by your actions. 

You tore open the cabinets below the sink, scanning the mess of products inside it.

"Sit down or something? Aren't you lightheaded?" You didn't mean for your voice to raise an octave, to show a bit of genuine concern. His face was more pale than usual, and being light headed wasn't _pain_ exactly, so you assumed he must be at least dizzy from the blood loss.

You heard him shift behind you, as you shoved miscellaneous medications and cleaning products aside.

"Nope!" He popped the 'p', he was in a better mood than this morning. You hoped to god it was because of a mood swing and not because of the person or people, he definitely killed. "Why ya ah-ask?" You grabbed what you believed to be a box, the same type of bandage you had slapped onto your leg sticking from its open top. He took in a sharp gasp, saying the words like they were incredibly scandalous, " _Do you care about me or something?"_

 _"I uh-"_ You stammered out, before sealing your lips shut. You had felt an intense wave of worry for the boy when he first walked into the room. It had to have been your basic human instinct of feeling bad for others in pain. Yet, on the same note you killed Doug while not giving a shit. You regretted it later on but in the moment you had no empathy for him. It had to have been the circumstances. Toby was the nicest of the three to you but he also killed Jen and was super fucking rude to you yesterday. However, he was bearable to be around and kinda funny when he was making Tim mad and he was hurt, gushing blood.

If you developed Stockholm syndrome, you were going to be _so fucking mad._

 _"You cha-care about meeee!"_ In your moment of conflicting thoughts; Consisting of ' _maybe, oh fuck am I crazy or just desperate for human touch,'_ and hasty ' _no i fucking don't'_ s. You hadn't given him an appropriate response on time. He wasn't going to live this shit down and you knew it.

"I don't!" You said, whipping around with bandaged to cover his massive wound in hand. 

He was sat on the floor of the shower against the wall, watching you with a beaming smile as his bloody stump was facing you. Your eyes were drawn to the blood seeping from the wound, soaking into and rolling on top of his bloodied hoodie, then to the white floor of the shower. You wondered how he was _this_ fine. Did his body automatically replenish blood when it was lost?

Toby was grinning ear to ear, you expected him to be looking smug but instead he looked genuinely very happy. The same as when he read through your texts. 

"You tuh-totally do!" Toby teased as you huffed, suddenly more unwilling to needlessly patch him up. 

You'd let him think that you believed he was still cute but you were going to die on this hill.

"I don't!" You repeated, walking towards him on your knees, unwrapping a square bandage.

Toby cocked his head, rolling his shoulder, the stump moving in a sickening circle. "Th-then why do you got that?" He called you on your shit.

With a sigh, you ignoring his question, "What happened?" You discarded the bandage wrapping beside you onto the floor. You told yourself you were insanely happy to see him hurt, happy to see him bleed. It wasn't true and you knew it. You panicked when you saw him hurt, it was empathy, to some level, you cared for the boy. Even if it was just as a fellow human, a fellow lost soul, maybe it was the bit of solidarity between you two. You thought about his companions, how they always fretted over him, he's fragile mentally. You didn't want to come off like them, then he'd think that you _really_ cared for him.

You stared at the bleeding wound, trying to figure out how to go about slapping the bandage on his torn flesh. "Hah-had a _real_ fuh-fighter tonight." There was a pang of pride on the dead mans behalf, good for him, getting in a hit you never could. There was also disgust at him casually chattering about murdering a man. "Ruh-real big guy! Took him fuh-forever go down." 

You sucked your lips into your mouth, refusing to meet his eye. His words reminded you of Dan, a fighter who also lost to Toby. You stared emptily into the stump of flesh, thinking of what the stump of Dan's headless neck looked like, how much blood must have poured from his lifeless body. 

"Are yuh-you crying over _me?_ " You didn't even notice the tears. You were snapped back from mental imaginings of Dan's corpse and to your morbid reality, trying to patch up his killer just to feel like a better person. 

You dropped the bandage. _What the fuck were you doing?_

"No." You whimpered out the response, it was somewhat true. It was over his actions partly but also the way that him being grievously wounded made you feel. You shakily sighed, "I'm just a pathetic fuck, huh?" You sunk to the floor, sitting inches away from him. Only separated by the edge of the shower and the air.

"Huh?" Toby was taken aback by your sudden self deprecation, his playful tone replaced with one of confusion. He didn't seem to be the empathetic type, he must have been more confused than anything.

There was no point in hiding the truth. "I want to feel like less of a piece of shit." You looked at the bandage beside you, tears slipping down your cheeks, "I know I'll never be a good person. I can't take back the things I've done." With a sniffle, you looked to him. He was staring at you dumbly with wide eyes, you were a lot of things but you verbalizing your self hate was something that caught the unpredictable killer off guard. You let out a bittersweet huff, "Wanted to play nurse for a second, I guess." You admitted, not looking away from his gaze, you searched for judgement in his eyes. His opinion of you didn't change your situation but you still looked for it, you didn't know why. "Feel like all I've done has been hurt people around me." You thought to those you'd slain, but more to all the broken hearts you left in your wake with your disappearance. You had no control over it but still, you felt guilty. "I just want to help somebody," You let out a bitter laugh, finding no hate or distaste in the boys eyes, "No offense but, I want to help anybody. Even if it's you." 

Toby blinked, mouth slightly open, then there was wet fabric over the top of your right hand. You looked down to see his arm reaching across his chest, fingers slowly intertwining between yours. He lifted your hand from the cold floor. You blinked dumbly at his fingers curled between yours, resting on your palm. You kept your hand open. 

He pressed your open palm into the stump. Your stomach churned at the heat of his exposed muscles, fingers slightly sinking into the pink flesh, his blood already beginning to flow between your fingers, like placing your hand under a faucet. His hand stayed over yours, slightly pushing yours down to put uneven pressure on the wound. It did nothing to stop the bleeding at all but he led your hand to his torn muscle anyway, letting you softly cover his wound. Having you play nurse when you were giving up on the idea, he wanted you to feel better. Out of empathy for your sorry ass or in an attempt to make you like him more, he seemed to thrive off of attention. Especially the positive kind. 

"Thanks." Was all you could say, eyes flicking up from your intertwined and bloody hands. If you really were still trying to keep up the facade of being a good person, you'd rip your hand away in disgust. Yet you accepted the action of affirmation, of comfort with open arms. It made you feel cared for, even if it was disgusting and crude. 

Your muscles relaxed while you blinked away the last of your tears. You found a bittersweet smile twitching onto your lips, blood terrified you, Toby terrified you. However, the human contact was gentle and caring to some fucked up degree. Friendly human contact was something you hadn't felt in so long. 

"No puh-problem." Toby was softly smiling at you, blood of a stranger slowly drying on his face.

You ignored it. You wanted to just feel cared for over feeling disgusting, even if it was for a few moments. 

There was only a quick beat of silence. The sensation of thick streams of blood running down and around your hand was strong but his hand atop yours was a stronger one, keeping you grounded, keeping your mind somehow off of memories of blood.

Toby being Toby, he opened his mouth to chit-chat about whatever, which was usually his immediate surroundings. His most immediate surrounding was you, he asked about your day. 

You chattered idly back and forth on the floor of the bathroom. You found your body inching towards the edge of the shower. It was usually Toby who'd lean himself into you but he'd yet to do so. It was on you to initiate the contact. You might regret it in the morning, but you hiked yourself up onto the edge of the shower, adjusting your arm to keep your hand over his wound comfortably. It was a bit of an awkward position but you didn't care, human touch was all that mattered. Sides pressed together, his warm blood soaking into the fabric of your clothing while you talked away.

He lightly ribbed you for approaching him like that, practically cuddling up next to him but you just grunted. The day was long, you were tired, your eyelids were heavy. You appreciated talking to someone about anything that came to mind, not feeling completely antagonized. Head heavy, you leaned it over onto his shoulder, the side of his head softly knocking with the top of yours. He paused his chatter as you leaned into him, you told your voice of reason to eat your ass as it screamed at you to stop. You needed this, as disturbing as it was to cuddle up to the currently one-armed, bleeding, murderer of your kinda ex and her brother. 

He quickly resumed his chit chat and your eyes fell downward. Looking at both of your feet, splayed out before you. Your right leg and his left touching, blood slowly passing the appendages and slipping down the drain. He kept on talking even as your eyes slipped closed, listening to his ramblings as a comforting white noise. 

He didn't move his hand and you didn't move yours. It was nice.


	27. 26 - Too Sweet

_**Snap!** _

There was a slight shaking on your right side that pulled you from the blackness of sleep. Groaning, you cracked your crusty eyes open with a drawled out, "Huh?"

Toby's muffled snicker erupted into elated giggling as you lifted your aching neck from his shoulder. You had slept at an awkward angle, you were definitely going to deal with an annoying crick in your neck all day. The first thing that you noticed was your bloodied leg next to Toby's, your skin rubbing up against the crusty denim. 

Blinking the tiredness away as you turned towards him in confusion. "Good morning ssssuh-sleepyhead!" Toby spoke way too loudly for it being the morning and you both being covered in semi-dried blood. 

You stared at him dumbly for a moment, him smiling wildly at your visible confusion. "Oh!" You remembered the night before with a gasp. You looked down to his shoulder, finding a brand new arm there that you'd been leaning on. It was a fleshy pink, not yet having developed his outermost layer of skin. Your hand had fallen away from where his stump had been, now it lay in the small space between your and Toby's thighs. In your sleep your hand fully accepted his, wrapping your fingers over the tips of his. 

You slept good. You didn't dream of Isaac, the cabin, the men in their masks, being stalked. Beside the aches that came from sleeping on a cold bathroom floor, you felt great. There was a pang of guilty disgust, the part of you that clung to your morals, the part of you that clung to Jen's memory despite seeing her one night after being apart for three years, it screamed at you. It told you how disgusting you were, horrible, amoral, selfish for wanting comfort. You were tired of it. You didn't know if you should call that part of your brain the rational part anymore. It was clearly not looking after your needs as a human being and more so your dying want to appear as a good person. You clearly weren't, why should you keep up the facade? 

For now though, you let go Toby's hand. Mostly because he looked awfully smug about you cuddling up to him, even at his most disgusting. Accepting it just for a chance at warm human contact. Brian stood above you both, phone in hand and an easy smile on his face.

**_Snap!_**

"What the-?" You blinked at the quick flash of light from the camera. You knew he doted on and cared for Toby but wasn't this a bit much? Taking photos of you and him being close. It was a very wholesome parent thing to do. 

Last night Brian went on a mission, either to kill or stalk some poor soul. Toby definitely killed someone, he proudly admitted to it. Acting like a child showing you a cool frog he found, happy with himself and wanting your praise. Toby still sat in his bloodied work clothes, which they had to have multiple pairs of. At the cabin a few holes were put into their dress, by Dan and at some points, you. You couldn't tell if it was unnerving that they knew that they'd get hurt on the job and kept back up uniforms or that funny that they wanted such consistency with their uniforms. You never took the murdering business as the kind to dress up for.

Either way, you were glad Brian wasn't in his uniform still, and completely free of blood. He donned loose fitting jeans and yet another awful t-shirt. It was a light grey, black bold read out, ' _Divorced AF!'_ With two cartoon thumbs up behind the lettering. You were more amazed than anything, wondering where he got such horrible clothes.

"Th-that was the buh-best sssuh-sleep I've had in awhile! Thanks-anks (Y/n)!" Toby chirped, stretching his dirty arm and his new baby smooth one as you stared at Brian's phone. You wondered if he had other photos of you on there, from his time spent stalking you. 

"Uhh." You didn't exactly know what to say. You'd used him to feel comforted as well, you were in the same boat. Yet he looked very smug about it. He knew that you pushed aside your morals and fear of him for the night just to get close. You believed he was smart enough to piece together the fact that you were still scared of him and not interested, but he was still a dickhead and was going to tease you about it for eternity. 

"Aren't you two just too fuckin' sweet?" Tim's voice invaded the room, and you shifted to look behind you. He was leaning in the doorway, arms crossed and smiling. You glared at him in response, it didn't hold your normal malice, you just wanted to make a face at him. "Didn't take you for the type to be into younger guys."

"I literally don't know how old any of you are." You huffed out a laugh, covered in blood and casually chatting to a murderer. You really didn't know their ages, you just kinda assumed based on looks and general demeanor. 

"I'm nuh-nineteen!" Toby blurted out the information, looking to you with a grin, his face was still a bloody mess, his curly hair matted to his skin. "Brian's twenty-six and th-the old man's twenty-five!" Honestly, that wasn't very surprising. They all looked their age.

"Brian's fuckin' older than me, dumb ass!" Tim barked at the boy. "I'm not that old!"

You let out a huffy chuckle. Good morning so far. If Toby was going to smug and a little shit to Tim, you'd do the same. "Why do you ask, Tim?" You cocked your head with a stupid smile, raising a questioning brow, "You want me to say I'm into older dudes, hm?" 

Tim's teasing smile fell, now looking annoyed and embarrassed. Success.

"No." He pushed his body from the door frame, "You're nasty and you smell, I'm not fuckin' interested." His glare wasn't piercing, it was softer. Being nice to Toby had it's perks, that being his companions weren't as shitty to you. He stepped out from under the doorway and into the hall, "You still cookin' breakfast, Brian?" 

That perked you up right away. They'd offhandedly mentioned Brian in relation to being able to cook. You hoped that whatever he made, he'd let you in on it. You were so tired of cereal for nearly every meal because you couldn't cook, they didn't trust you in the kitchen, due to lack of experience or knives, you didn't know which. Toby and Tim seemed like worse chefs than you, somehow. Being broke and in college had its perks, you knew how to boil water and turn on an oven. 

"Yeah!" Brian carefully stepped around you, pushing his phone into his jean pocket. You glanced to his passing form, noticing how the floor was clean of blood. Brian fucking cleaned the bathroom while you both had slept, he was a master of stealth. Horrifying. You wondered quickly if him and Toby chatted while you slept away. "Hows pancakes sound?" He was directing the question at Tim as the exited the cramped room but you internally were screaming ' _oh my god, yes! Please!'_

Tim was right about one thing though, you definitely smelled of blood. A scent you'd grown nose blind to, a relief, but a stomach churning realization that this shit was becoming normal for you. 

Pushing yourself from the cold floor, your body thanking you for moving away from the uncomfortable seat that was the floor. Toby looked up to you, you ignored the bloody googles, his face mask hanging around his neck, the dried blood on his skin and clothing. That was just Toby, a crazy ass murderer, but it was Toby. You accepted that this was your fate, somewhat, you'd have to accept all the blood. Mostly for your own mental state, if you just ignore it, overlook it, maybe you'd be okay. 

Toby hopped up to his feet, hair bouncing as he moved, "You can ssh-shower first (Y/n). I can wah-wait!" His smile was sweet, free of smugness, for now.

He was way filthier than you but you weren't going to refuse the offer. "Alright." You shrugged, taking a step back from him to speak at a more socially acceptable distance. Yet socially acceptable norms weren't accepted in this house, and Toby stepped with you. You had to look up to him as he was _close._ You could make out the stubble on his face connecting to his sideburns, not as dark and thick as Tim's, but still covering a lot of his face. You'd just spent the night cuddling up to the bloody man, you were growing used to his clinginess, so you didn't make a move to move away again. You did need to grab some clean clothes though, and he was unconsciously blocking your exit. "Thanks." You tacked on the soft nicety, you reluctantly meant it. 

You wouldn't forget his sins. He may be a fucked up puppet, forced into his position, but you wouldn't let that excuse his crimes. You were starting to let go of Jen because he made you so upset everytime you looked at him. You had to let go of Jen, to be able to look his way without feeling debilitating, angry, hate. That was a sin in itself on you, you were forgetting the dead just to feel more comfortable. Deep down you knew that you'd never forget them, but you were trying to sever emotional ties that had been laying dormant for years. Holding a grudge against Toby was a useless act, he didn't have control over your personal relationships. He wanted to hurt you that night, on a surface level, he didn't know you or your situation. Holding a grudge was the dying acts of the good person in you. Or it could be angry spite, still unwilling to accept your circumstances and your fate.

The truth was, you didn't how to feel. He killed Jen but Jen hadn't been in your life in years. Her death brought up old feelings that kept the fire in you alive while they stalked you. Her death once fueled you, now it held you back, like concrete weights attached to your ankles. The tall twig pushing you into murky waters of uncertainty. The men in the water with you, were able to swim. Unseen weights of their own had been cut off long ago. They offered you bolt cutters with a bit of reluctance and aggression. You took them into your hands, but you still didn't have the guts to free yourself, to selfishly leave them behind.

"Excuse me." You slightly pushed past him, he barley moved aside. You brushed against his chest while walking by him, the second you did, he was on your heels following intently. You could feel his breath on your neck, it made your hair stand on end. You didn't think you'd get over the anxiety of being followed for a long time.

Turning out of the bathroom, you were further impressed by the fact that there was not a single trace of blood on the carpet. Mothers everywhere are jealous. These boys could get blood stains out of every surface but they used three-in-one, men were a mystery. Toby's obvious presence left you as he quickly turned into his room, probably to grab a change of clothes for his turn in the shower. You hobbled down the hall, passing the entrance to the kitchen. Hints of cinnamon, vanilla, and coffee in the air. Smiling, you bent down, snatching the first outfit available. 

As you passed by the kitchen entrance once more Tim called out, not aggressive or biting for once, "Hey (Y/n), you want coffee?" A very flooring and unexpected nicety. 

"Uh," You weren't going to hide your surprise, "Sure!" You kept on walking before calling out a, "Thanks." You still felt odd about being slightly polite to them. Tim didn't respond, that was fine. 

Entering the bathroom, you shut the door behind you. Getting to work, turning on the faucet, putting you clean clothes out the toilet lid, and undresssing. Once more, you were under a shower head, being blasted with lukewarm water, scrubbing blood from your skin. You wondered how often of an occurrence that would be. If you were to become one of them, it had to be. You'd probably become a pro at cleaning up blood too.

The real question was, could you kill again? Did you have the mental capacity to? You were at the end of your rope already, three murders under your belt. You couldn't do it again, could you? You were terrible: bantering, falling asleep next to, saying thanks, to killers made you pretty awful. You were at rock bottom and only the twig decided if it was going to give you a pickaxe. The two paths of fate before you both fucking sucked. Die or become a supernatural murderer, a meat puppet to a great unknown, but at least you'd have a fucked up found family. It was hard to really be okay with that, how could you with so much freedom stripped away? You couldn't fully conceptualize if you could do it, kill again, be eventually numb to ending human lives.

You wouldn't be able to understand fully unless you were put in a situation where you had to harm another person, an innocent person.

While you washed your skin of dried sin, you noticed all the other miscellaneous bottles of body wash and hair cleaning products in the shower. They'd taken them from your bag, fucking annoying but they'd done worse. Some of the bottles were empty now, whoever had used them last being too lazy to throw them away. Scoffing at the violation of privacy but mostly the shitty roommate vibe, that your gut told you was Tim, you squirted the last of your cocoa butter body wash into your palm.

The only thing you'd been aware of while picking out clothing was to grab shorts. You'd probably need a bandage change or maybe the wound needed to be cleaned again. You pulled the black, loose fitting gym shorts onto your body with a sigh. The white baseball-tee, donning (f/c) sleeves was pulled over your head. You hadn't thought about what it said when you first grabbed it, momentarily forgetting the gag gift from Sully from a work secret Santa. It was only when you looked down at your fit that you realized dumbly, you and Brian were kinda matching. In a large, black curling font, it read ' _Happily Divorced!'_ You and Brian didn't coordinate this and it may be a bit awkward but it'd be funny! Although a bit ironic, considering in Goobers eyes you were his parents. 

You were too relaxed for your situation, too okay. It wasn't like they'd sworn off never hurting you again, you just felt stupidly safe, that they wouldn't try anything. At least for now. 

Pulling the door of the bathroom open, you were met with the sight of Toby standing before the door. He was idly bouncing on his heels, waiting for you. "Did I take too long?" If they were going to be okay today, than so would you.

"Nope!" He rocked back and forth on his feet, his shoulder popping quietly as he ticked, "Did you ha-have a nice sssh-shower?" He was being very considerate towards you, you still weren't exactly sorted out on how that made you feel.

"Yeah." You earnestly answered, stepping out of the doorway, making room for him.

He didn't enter right away, he just turned his head towards you, smiling. You kept up your eye contact with a raised brow. "Are you truh-tryn'a watch me sssh-shower or sss-something?" There it was! The annoying smug shit that you were expecting out of him.

"No." You deadpanned, crossing your arms over your chest, dirty clothing held in wads that hung from your hands, "Not interested."

"Well, you didn't duh-deny that you think I'm cuh-cute!" He playfully argued, taking a small step toward the bathroom.

Oh my god. You did that to spare his feelings, an act of kindness through your hatred at the time. You still hated them, just a good bit less today. "Hm?" He pulled your leg last night, pretending to not notice his entire left arm being missing, you were going to do the same. "I don't recall." You tapped your chin in mock thought. It technically wasn't saying that you didn't find him unattractive, just that you didn't remember saying it. 

Toby let out a breathy laugh, "Sssh-sure." He knew you were just playing, your comments only made him smile wider. "Do you think I'm cuh-cute?" The clever bastard was asking you directly, you couldn't deny him, he was being nice today. You didn't want to sour his mood because he'd probably be a dick for the rest of the day. Yet, you didn't want to have him be all smug about it. 

"I think you're like a puppy." It was the truth, excitable, follows you everywhere, obnoxious, and cute. He pouted ever so slightly, not completely satisfied with your answer. "Now," You were hungry as hell, wanting to cut the conversation short, to not have to deal with the awkward topic and your hunger, " _Please_ shower." You felt like you were softly scolding a friend. After the words left your mouth, you felt a pang of regret. You were using a joking tone but, what if thought you were trying to boss him around like his partners? What if he got mad over it?

"You cuh-care about me." Toby echoed his accusation from last night, a grin on his lips.

"Think whatever you want." You weren't going to deny the fact that you were starting to give a shit about him, especially after what he'd done for you last night. There was still the conflicting feelings of him having killed a man and scaring you shitless, but he'd given you what you needed, human contact. "You smell by the way." It was a true statement, you'd gone nose blind to blood but if he smelled the way he looked, than he smelled pretty bad.

With a chuckle, Toby padded into the bathroom, shutting the door softly. You made your way down the hall, throwing your dirty clothes onto the growing pile of filthy laundry. You really needed to ask about that. You should also let Brian know that you're all almost out of body wash. You had a few bottles, but all of them seemed to go fucking bonkers over separated bottles of shampoo and body wash. There wasn't much left.

Entering the kitchen the smell of vanilla, cinnamon, and coffee smacked you in the face. It was intensely pleasant, you felt like you were back in the diner, starting an early morning shift. The pit in your stomach reminded you that you would never go there again. That you would never get to hear Emile and Sully tease you over your usually ugly outfits ever again.

Brian had his back to you, working away in front of the stove and you could hear the sound of Emile's head being smashed into the counter. Blinking out of your thoughts, there was suddenly a tan mass flipping above his head. It quickly fell back down, hitting the frying pan with a ' _plop_ ' and a satisfying sizzle.

" _Holy shit!"_ You barked, you'd never seen someone flip a pancake in the air so high and so perfectly. What the fuck was this man?

Brian didn't turn to look at you but his shoulders bounced with a breathy chuckle. You couldn't believe this man flipping pancakes leisurely was the one who killed Emile out of spite. His posture was so relaxed, his presence wasn't imposing as it was while he was in mask, he was just a man making breakfast for his roommates and enjoying himself.

Sitting to his side, next to his feet, was Goober. Tail wagging at the idea of breakfast. He was so entranced with Brian and the sweet smell of pancakes that he didn't even look your way when you came in. You felt a pang of jealousy and betrayal but you got it. You too were entranced by the man, but mostly the thought of food that wasn't cereal. 

"Impressive right?" Tim drawled, you turned your head to see him sitting on a stool, leaning onto the kitchen bar with one arm, holding a mug of coffee with the other. You noticed something new about the kitchen bar, it was nice but it made your stomach drop. There was a fourth stool, one for you. They were sure that you'd be joining them. 

With a breath of either amusement or fear, you responded, "Yeah." 

On the counter beside Tim, sat a steaming (f/c) mug, creepy but it had to be a coincidence. "Oh, thanks." You approached the stool that sat next to Tim's. You quietly contemplated sitting next to him a moment. You thought, what the fuck, everything's good today, might as well take advantage and get a little closer to your forced companions. Who were still dickheads, by the way. You couldn't let yourself forget that, couldn't be whisked away by the domestic tranquility around you. 

Sitting on the stool, you wrapped your hand around the mug. Turning in your hand you noticed the chip on its lip, in the shape of a rough semi-circle. You recognized this mug, it was from your apartment. You usually avoided using it due to the chip but you used it when there were not other cups left, you feeling too lazy to do the dishes. Creepy as fuck.

"Brian said that's how you like it." Tim's casual comment had you looking away from the warm mug in your hand and to him. He was smiling at your mild distress. You were already very aware of Brian's stalking. It was still disturbing, you wondered how many times that you thought that you were alone when you weren't in the slightest.

"Uhh, ahahahaha." Your nervous laughter wasn't well hidden, "Thanks?" You were thankful for the coffee but the reminder of the stalking soured your mood, just a bit. You shot a glance to Brian's back, he worked away quietly, peacefully. He still looked like he hadn't murdered your teenage coworker last week.

He was too happy, too relaxed, he had so much more than he deserved. Yet, he was looking out for you all the same. Despite his distaste towards you. He deeply understood your circumstances, as he contributed to them, and had once been in your position. You were unsure of his complete origin but whatever happened to him, made him have a few shreds of empathy for your plight. You were glad that he was helping you. Him knowing that if you were to kill again, you'd want it to be painless and efficient was incredibly considerate towards you, probably the nicest thing he could offer you once you became a proxy. The men were as easy to hate as they were to relate to, to want to talk to, to want comfort from.

"Personally," Tim's voice cut through your thoughts, you looked back to him, "I think that you take your coffee _way_ too sweet." You didn't need to look into his mug of coffee to know it was black. You had his usual still ingrained in your brain from the short time serving him everyday. So, he was one of those annoying coffee snobs that only drinks black coffee and has to tell everyone that they take their coffee black, that it makes them special.

You forced the unease away, Tim wanted to make you uncomfortable. "I think that you take your coffee way too bitter." Throwing his words back at him while bringing the mug to yours lips.

"No I don't." Tim took the bait easily. You weren't sure if you should be happy about irking him because he could probably punt you across a football field. However, he didn't seem offended enough to do so and form the past days experiences, he was pretty docile before having his cup of coffee.

"Yes you do." You childishly retorted after taking a sip of the coffee, it was perfect, creamy and sweet with just enough of the bitter bite of the coffee peaking through. You set your mug on the counter beside you, it was so perfect that you had to put it down. Unnerved by the beverage.

"Try it then." He held out his mug to you. 

You scrunched your nose recoiling, "No that's fucking nasty!" You brought your hands up to your face in a mock defense, "Get it away, disgusting." You let out a laugh as you lightheartedly jabbed at him. You were having too much fun, you were acting too familiar with him, you needed to stop. A part of you didn't want to at all, you needed some lightheartedness in your life. It was depraved, but you'd take it where you could get it.

Tim brought his mug to the table before snatching yours. He took an obnoxiously loud sip before slamming the mug back onto the table, the light brown liquid sloshing out the sides.

"What the fuck, Tim!?" You spat, the cup of coffee being so perfect was unnerving, but it was still a perfect cup of coffee. Tim had just tainted it with his spit. Gross.

Swallowing with a deep frown, he shook his head, "That's too fuckin' sweet. You're the nasty one."

Mouth opening and closing over and over, you formulated a quick yet childish retort, "No you." 

"That's not even fuckin' clever!" Tim called you on your shit with a shout. "Hey Brian, that's dumb right?" He snapped his head to the man working away at the stove. You could see five plates beside him, four plates stacked with three fluffy looking pancakes. The fifth had little dime sized pancakes, he added another to the stack. It was for Goober.

"Incredibly dumb." You could hear the smile in his voice. Dickheads all of them.

**_Thump, Thump, Thump, Thump!_**

The blur that you believed to be Toby sped into the kitchen, launching himself in the air and clinging to Brian's back. The man didn't stumble at the full grown mans weight suddenly on his back. He didn't even seem surprised.

"Are you mmuh-making pancakes!?" Toby looked like a koala clinging to a tree. His hands on Brian's shoulders, pulling himself up while his legs threw themselves around his waist. He leaned in to look over Brian's shoulder at what he was cooking, his head jerking to the side a few times.

You dumbly blinked at the odd display of affection, the fact that this was apparently unsurprising, normal. What the fuck?

"Yes Toby." Brian chuckled, turning the stove off with a few ' _click'_ s of the plastic knob. "Could you get the maple syrup from the fridge?" 

Toby hopped off of Brian's back, landing with a soft ' _thud'_. He was wearing a black t-shirt and black fuzzy pajama pants, along with his gloves. They didn't look as grimy and caked with dried blood, he must have had extra gloves. He turned his head to you with a big grin, wet hair sticking to his clean forehead. 

You turned your attention back to your cup of coffee, you'd drink it, even if it was tainted by Tim's spit. You weren't going to get picky about your new privileges, you hadn't had coffee in what felt like forever. You took the mug into your hand, lifting it to your lips as a plate stacked with pancakes was slid in front of you, along with a butter knife and fork. "Thank you."

You were still shocked at all of the kindness from them men today. Toby you could somewhat understand, you had cuddled up together last night, but it was under fucked up circumstances. You didn't hide the fact that you intended to use him to feel better about yourself. Yet he accepted your touch anyway, letting you hold his bloody stump. He empathized with you, wanted your attention and touch. 

Brian had been smiling when he took the photos of you sleeping on Toby's shoulder and groggily waking up. You supposed if Toby was happy, he was happy. It probably helped that yesterday you'd bonded over shooting innocent cans, one day you might be bonding while shooting innocent people, but that wasn't the point. You pushed the thoughts away. You just wanted to have a good day. 

Tim was being himself, annoying. Yet, he wasn't hollowly threatening to break your bones. He was engaging in banter with you, not calling you a bitch every three seconds. If Toby was happy, then Brian was happy, then Tim was happy. Their little hierarchy of happiness was as adorable as it was unnerving. If you made one of them happy, you made all of them happy. If you made one of them mad, it was like hitting a hornets nest with a baseball bat.

"Do you wah-want some syrup-up?" Toby was hovering by your side, sitting beside you, his stool scooting closer. 

"Sure." You chirped, all this soft shit was giving you the warm and fuzzies. A sense of being cared for, you were melting into it, knowing how fucked up it was. You weren't a good person the pit in your stomach told you. 

As Toby popped the cap of the bottle open, you looked behind you, hearing soft clicks on the kitchen tile. You saw Brian setting down the plate stacked with mini pancakes on the floor for Goober to enjoy. His tail wildly slapped against Brian's legs, he smiled warmly at the dog, so did you. As he stood back up, he caught your eye.

Eyes momentarily darting to the text across your chest. He cracked a grin, "I'm not sorry about taking custody over Goober." 

The joke caught you off guard, you were expecting someone to say something. Something jokingly rude about being surprised you even got married in the first place. You weren't expecting him to start a bit with you, to include you in such a lighthearted way. After all the horrible shit you'd been through, you accepted the friendly bit with open arms.

"Just let me see him on the weekends, please. I miss my boy." Child custody in actuality was a complicated thing. Divorce tears families apart. Yet the shirts you and Brian wore, proclaiming that you were both divorced sent you two into a realm of distasteful jokes.

"Hire a better lawyer or pay me." Brian grabbed his own plate of pancakes and walked to the counter. You turned back to your own plate of pancakes, finding Toby had poured a lake of syrup next to your pancakes. 

You let the joke drop, setting your mug beside your plate to pick up the knife and fork. The pancakes were thick and golden, better looking than the ones served back at the diner. You wondered if while stalking you, he internally was critiquing the diners chefs on their lackluster pancakes. Cutting off a triangle of the sweet food, you dipped it lightly into the syrup before shoveling it into your mouth.

_Finally, some good fucking food._

For a second, you thought you were going to actually cry. You'd never had pancakes this good. The second you swallowed your first mouthful you went in for another. 

"Holy fuck, you're inhaling those things." Tim observed with a gruff laugh.

You turned to him, syrup dribbling down your lips and cheeks stuffed with the heavenly food. "Mmfhh-hum." You hummed, nodding.

"Nasty." Tim insulted you, stabbing his own stack of pancakes with his fork. 

Swallowing the lump of food, you turned to Brian, "These are the best pancakes I've ever fucking had." You didn't mean to spit the words out so quickly and sweetly but you did. It was a genuine compliment but you knew he still probably wanted to chop your hands off. 

Brian didn't seem the type to be bashful in the slightest, yet here he was. Glancing at you with a soft and genuine smile, soft pink dusting his cheeks. "Thank you." 

"No, thank _you."_ Fuck being on edge all the time. Today was a good day and you weren't going to let negative feelings bog you down. You were a little shit to the core but today you'd try to be somewhat pleasant to be around. To keep yourself happy but also to increase the likelihood of the men not being their usual insufferable selves. 

"Fphanks Fphyain." Toby mumbled out through a mouth full of pancakes. A bandage slapped onto his cheek to keep the food from tumbling out of his gash.

"Yeah, thanks man." Tim echoed the sentiment, "Also Toby, don't talk with your fuckin' mouth full. No one wants to see that shit." He pointed his fork at the boy next to you. 

Toby blinked at him a moment. Then he stabbed a fat chunk of pancake onto his fork, shoving into his already half-full mouth. Looking Tim dead in the eye he obnoxiously chewed on food with an open mouth. The visual was disgusting as well as the soft squelching sound that came from his mouth. It reminded you of having to dig his hatchet from Jen's back. You were smiling at Jen's killer as he antagonized Henry's killer. Alexis's killer smiling warmly at them both. 

Things were too okay, this was too much dopamine, it was like an overload. You couldn't get enough, that's why you had to break the relaxed atmosphere. You couldn't let yourself be lulled into complacence. 

"Do you know why it sent you to kill us that night?" You suddenly asked, your grip on your fork and knife tightening, the cheap metal digging into your skin. The action of speaking those words contradicted your earlier thoughts of relaxation and happiness. The air falling silent and tension filling it. Changing the mood or not, you wanted to know the truth.

Toby shut his mouth, chewing with it closed. If your words could cease his obnoxious activities then you knew, you really just killed the mood. Just like they killed everyone at the cabin.

There was no use in not telling you if they knew something. Brain had apparently been watching Dan, he was there that night. You don't know why they'd yet to tell you. Honestly, whatever the possible reason for the killings, for Brian watching Dan, it was going to be upsetting news. They'd always delighted in seeing you in distress. Why avoid the subject?

You looked carefully to Brian, the smile and blush gone from his face, the blank expression he usually donned shuttering over his happiness. Was it that they were sparing your feelings, sparing you of the painful truth? There was a chance that you'd die, if you did perish, were they aiming for you to die happily unaware? They could have been planning on hanging the information over your head for awhile, teasing you with the tidbits of information that they had. The truth was they either pitied you, having been in your situation before, in their hindsight maybe they would have rather been blissfully unaware of the bullshit going on around them. If The Operator rejected them, they would have wanted you to be oblivious, was that it? Or they were worse than you thought, wanting to torture you with what they knew, of why your life had been thrown to the dogs, thrown into them.

Brian's voice cut through the beat of silence, "Are you sure you want to know?" He delivered the question softly, eyes flickering up to meet yours. You knew from his tone that the news was grave, it'd hurt you. They purposely kept you from the truth to spare your feelings after all. 

You felt your eyes widen, stomach heavy and dropping. You set the utensils on your plate, feeling a little ridiculous, about to receive mind-fucking news with them in your hands. With a slow and shaky nod, you spoke, "Yes."

Despite being the most annoying, Tim was the leader. So, he must have thought it appropriate to inform you with a soft sigh, "Dan and Isaac were being considered."

_"WHAT!"_

**\----**

_"Jesus Christ, you look fucking terrible." You couldn't hold in the comment as you passed by Dan in the parking lot. School had just gotten out and you were going to get together with some buddies at the Seven Eleven down the road. "Are you like," You paused your gait to stare at his swollen eye, "Good?"_

_Dan's face had gotten a beating. A swollen lower lip, cracked open. A deep reddish-purple around his right eye. Yellow and dark brown littered his face. He looked like absolute ass._

_Dan sucked a whole lot of dick but you were still a good person. You had basic human empathy, to ask if he was alright, even if he was a douche._

_"Fuck off (l/n)." He growled, thick brows pointing downwards._

_"Geez," You snorted obnoxiously, "Just wanted to know what the fuck is up with your face. Did someone finally fight back?" You readied yourself to run, you weren't above turning tail and running away like a little bitch, you also weren't going to fight back. Dan was a six foot something, angry meathead. You had balls but not a death wish._

_"Football practice." He hissed at you, words dripping with a bitter venom. So that was it. You thought that football players had to wear helmets to avoid those sort of injuries but oh well. Shit happens._

**\----**

Slamming your balled fists on the wooden counter top, you threw yourself from the stool. It screeching with the movement and toppling over with a crash. Your eyes were on Tim, mouth dry and eyes wide. 

You wanted to scream at him, call him a liar, but you'd hear him out.

Unphased by your reaction, Tim continued keeping his tone unnaturally even, "That night wasn't an accident." Tim ran a hand through his hair, he didn't seem to enjoy delivering the news, surprising. "Brian knows more about it." He passed the torch to his partner, and you whipped your head to the man.

Brian didn't leave you hanging in your suspense, looking from Tim to you, his gaze firm, but not unkind, he was telling you the truth, "Dan was a fighter," You knew that for sure, "He did everything he could do to get **him** to leave him be. So, he took a gamble. Got you and all your friends to participate in the killing and dismembering of Isaac. Thought if he got you involved, it'd turn it's attention from him and to somebody else." His voice wasn't the apathetic drone you were used to. He was delivering the words with care, each one picked carefully, his gaze was unwavering, his eyes darting between yours carefully, "All that did was make **him** be more interested in him and all of you."

**\----**

_You were only vaguely aware of what happening around you._

_The hot tears running down your face, clearing a path through the red that painted your face. Jen's head was on your shoulder, whispering 'it's okay's and 'you're fine's. Her hands around your waist, holding you from behind as you quietly sobbed, rocking you back and forth._

_She turned you away from the boys. The ripping, the squelching, the disgusted retching, all of it played from behind you._

_They were cutting up the corpse with a garden saw. Jen had to turn you away, you couldn't look away from what you'd done. She tried to reassure you that all of you participated in his slaying. That was bullshit. Dan hit him with the car, you and Jen finished the job, everyone else sat and watched. They were accomplices but not responsible for his bodily harm, his death. Not like you were._

_You wanted to throw up, but there was no more bile left in your stomach. You wanted to run away but there was nowhere to go, covered in blood and guilty. There was jail but in jail there would be no Jen. If you went to the same prison you had an inkling of an idea that they'd keep you apart. You wouldn't let that happen, you killed for her, you wouldn't let her get locked up just because you turned tail and ran._

_It was for Jen. You were saving her. From what, you did not know. That justified the act somewhat in your head._

_You were a good person._

**\----**

" **He** **'s** inconsistent. Fickle, sometimes patient, sometimes not. All **he** is, is a fucking parasite that lives to feed." Brian continued after giving you a moment to soak in the information. Your eyes momentarily flicked to Toby, he was staring at you, examining you for reactions. Your only reaction was to stare dumbly and feel the pit of dread dig deeper into your guts. "He could have had us kill y'all back then. **He** didn't though." Brain weakly shrugged, "I don't know why **he** waited so long. My only guess is that it wanted you together when you all died," His tone held disdain, not for you or your dead companions, but for **him** , "There's only one thing we know for sure, **he** likes the dread, the fear, devouring hope."

Dan always had been a real piece of shit back in the day. All you could say for his character post high school was that he was really fucking rude, then he saved your life. 

"Oh. So," Your brain was still processing the information, slowly, "Dan having us be apart was to protect us from **him**?" You didn't know how to feel about Dan anymore. 

**\----**

_Killing takes a lot out of you but you could still move, still fight, still protest, but you didn't. She clung to you, begged you to stay but you listened to Dan over her. This was for her own good._

_You were doing this because you loved her. The same reason you crushed his skull in, even when he begged you to stop. You didn't know him, didn't care about him. Jen was all that mattered._

_It hurt. Dan ripping her body away from yours as she kicked and screamed. Dan had already drilled the facts in your head. You couldn't associate with one another anymore. It was a precaution. If the police caught onto one of you, you'd keep quiet, act like you didn't know the others. You only had a real established relationship with Dan and Jen._

_Jen was your best friend and the love of your teenage life. Dan was there by familial association, he fucking hated your guts. Alexis was just some bitter asshole who'd been dating Dan for a little while. Henry and you had chatted a few times here and there. You mostly knew him to occasionally sell pot to Dan. Michael was like Henry's plus one, always tagging along wherever he went._

_It was a flimsy plan. You were all teenagers, selfish assholes who'd rat out the others if it meant you'd get to walk free. Yet, it was the only idea any of you really had. Killing some kid took a lot from your ability to critically think._

_He'd always been an ass but he was doing this for all of you. He'd said something along the lines of 'getting you into this mess, now he'd get you out.'_

_So, you let Dan take the reins._

**\----**

Tim let out a sarcastic huff of a laugh, not at your confusion but your assumption of Dan's character, assuming that he was thinking of anyone but himself.

"Like Brian said," You turned to him, he met your watery gaze, " **He's** unpredictable. Nothing Dan did had a guaranteed success. The guy was smart enough to figure out what **he** likes. Probably thought some shit like; ' _If I drag everyone down with me and keep us all apart, **he'll** never come after me. **He'll** wait for us to be together but I'll make sure we never will again."_ With a roll of the eyes at Dan's hubris, Tim continued," _'I'm gonna live forever.'"_ Shaking his head with a huff, " **He** probably influenced the stupid fuck. Got him to get you all together. Then sent us in." 

In the moment, you'd forgotten what they'd done to everyone else. All you could think of was Dan and the puppet master he dragged you and everyone else towards. They _really_ were puppets. You were all puppets the entire fucking time. Dan pulling the strings of your life, thrusting them into The Operator's hands. 

Why would he put you all in a position like that then turn around and save you? The answer was simple. He changed after high school, so had you. He changed from a selfish snake, stupid and thinking he could avoid The Operator. Then, he bloomed into less of an outward asshole. His final act was one to do some good, an attempt to right his wrongs. You'd done the same thing, many times. Trying to do good, trying to seem like a good person when you were just the scum of the earth. 

He changed your life. He dragged you into this, into killing Isaac, back to the cabin, to the spot in the murderer's kitchen. The chance at a normal life, one where you grew old with Jen, ripped away, all by him. More accurately by **him** , but Dan dragged you into **his** eyeless sight, took you all down with him. Dan's the reason you were having a pleasant breakfast with murderers. One of them being his. Good.

Daniel Baker was fucking dead and buried. He got what he deserved.

Everyone else didn't deserve to be dragged into his shit. Yet, he took you all down with him in a desperate attempt to be normal. You were the last one standing. Because of him you'd die as well or become an undying murder puppet. 

You were like him. You tried to fool yourself into believing that you were a good person. Protesting against your hypocritical morals, feeling bad for accepting the men. Trying to make himself feel like a better person only fucked you over. You were fucked either way, but still. A feeble attempt to comfort yourself, a hypocritical embrace of his shitty morals. 

You weren't like him either. You didn't drag your sister, your high school girlfriend, your pot dealer, his best friend, and your sisters best friend who was stupidly obviously in love with her, into a death trap. You didn't ruin _that many_ lives, just three.

You didn't know what to think. The walls felt like they were closing in. You wanted their eyes off of you. You wanted to be alone and sort your shit out. Thinking hurt, but you were a proven masochist. 

You pushed yourself away from the table, abandoning your pancakes as they grew soggy. You turned around, walking around the fallen stool. 

"Where are you going?" Tim asked as you tore the door open. They knew you wouldn't run away, there was nothing left in the world for you, and you were accepting them into your life. You just needed some space.

Your leg dully throbbed through the painkillers, you ignored it. 

You couldn't stop crying. Was it sadness? Anger? Betrayal?

You didn't look behind you as you walked out the door, letting it slowly fall shut behind you.

_"On a walk. Be back when-the-fuck-ever."_


	28. 27 - Where There's Smoke

You didn't know where the fuck you were going. There was no way out of this for you, there was nowhere to go but your new home. Home could wait for you to sort your shit out. You'd go back, you weren't running away. That was the teenage you. Now, you were the last one standing. Everyone who knew the terrible secret that you all shared was dead and gone. You were all that was left of them, besides surviving family that you'd never see again. You weren't the only who knew how he died, Brian saw it. 

You were so alone for so long. Having to grow up, act like a normal person who didn't crush in some kids skull in high school. Never truly relating to another human being. Feeling like a lizard in a human suit, having to pull the soft skin over your scaly face every morning. You lied and lied about how you were a good person, now you were here. Somewhere only you and they knew, them more so than you. Three people around you who understood the whole killing people bullshit. You were finally somewhere you could let the facade drop, just openly be a fucking reptilian. 

They understood you. You didn't need to walk briskly into the woods in a randomly chosen direction. You could have just stayed, pet your dog, and cried to them. You were accepting their presence into your life. They were all that was left in this shitty world, they were like rotten pillars of hope. They couldn't help you escape The Operator, but Toby gave you physical comfort and one time, a hug. Brian was the scariest man you'd ever met aside from The Operator but he was looking out for you and the others, even if the night you first met you kicked him off of a moving vehicle. Tim acted like a straight up dumb ass half the time but he deeply care for his companions, one of which would be you. Still standing up to The Operator for them because he was the only one who could. 

It was a beautiful morning, there was a cool breeze, the grass crunching beneath your feet, birds chirping sweetly in the trees. It'd be nice if you didn't just find out the past four years of your life were thrown to the dogs by your high school bully. The same man tried to redeem himself and you got to live instead of die. Living was better than dying, you weren't going to wish for death. You'd selfishly live and enjoy it when you could. You earned your life. You fought your way into your unfortunate spot, despite Dan's best efforts to fuck it up. Someone else made your bed, you fucking up the metaphorical beds sheets before lying in it. Begrudgingly at first, but now with a bitter acceptance. Accepting it didn't feel like the end of the world anymore because you knew were a shitty person and nothing could change that. For the sake of happiness, you'd accept everything, roll with the punches while being a pain in the ass.

You didn't put on socks this morning. So you didn't have to worry about getting them wet in the shallow creek when you dipped them into the water. It wasn't icey cold or comfortably warm. It was lukewarm, just okay, complacent. The boulder you sat on was only a foot up from the surface of the water. You let your legs dangle uselessly off it, let the water flow around your feet.

Where did you go wrong? You could sit and contemplate why you weren't biting back. The answer was obvious, it was because you didn't need to. You were just like them already, no use in fighting the only people you could grow to maybe care about. 

Everything that had happened was in the past. Dan had hurt you, always trying to tear you and Jen apart, all he did was ruin shit. Then, he had the audacity to make things worse, spoil your already shitty teenage years. Let you disappear into obscurity, without a warning of the thing that could be watching you, or those that worked for it.

People fucking suck.

The babbling of the creek and your hitched breaths covered up his footsteps. You felt warm fabric thrown onto your back. The sound of fabric shifting and the soft _'thud'_ of someone throwing themselves onto the boulder, sitting next to you. Your head was in your hands, elbows resting on your knees.

"Can't I be," You paused your cracked speech to take a few hitching breaths, "Alone for more than five minutes." You didn't care to see who it was, you just wanted them to go away. Sure, they knew what it was like to have their lives thrown to the dogs. However, they were the dogs but they were turning into your dogs. Those you could turn to. You accepted that. 

You wanted to talk to somebody about all the bullshit life had thrown you way. You never learned to truly let go with a person. You hadn't been completely one-hundred honest about yourself since Jen. You couldn't exactly let Sully know that you killed somebody. You had to dance around the subject or mask it with a different problem. It was therapeutic but it wasn't honest. You were an adult, you knew how to articulate your feelings, you weren't an emotionally tactless person. You just hadn't completely exposed the horrible truth to anybody else. Only you, the corpses, and the men knew. They knew the basics though, not your internal affairs, the loneliness that ate away at you, the extreme need to be truly loved once more. They knew but they didn't at the same time. You could fully expose the truth if you wanted to, bare your sins and not your teeth. Wear your heart on your sleeve and hope they don't rip it out. 

Whoever it was didn't get up and leave. Of course.

"Nope." It was Tim's gruff voice that answered you.

"God," Your hands slid up your face and through your (h/l) hair, "You come to watch me cry, huh asshole?" You let out a shaky breath, straightening your back, putting the palms of your hands on the boulders rough surface. 

It wasn't a particularly cold morning but a jacket had been thrown on your back. You let it sit there, not yet accepting it but not pushing it away, like a blanket draped over you. 

Tim huffed, softly sarcastic, "Maybe."

"Dickhead." You didn't make an attempt to wipe away the snot and tears. He'd seen you in worse condition, you didn't have to hide from him. 

You didn't really know what to say. Tim was a part of your life now, but you didn't know if you were ready to open the floodgates that were your problems to him. He was warming up to you, you think. You weren't exactly sure where you stood with all of them. They were sure you'd be one of them, that was for sure. Toby was excited for a new person to be around but were you still just a doll to play with to him? Brian was hard to read, he wasn't a dickhead this morning and was teaching you how to shoot, for your own good. Even though Toby seemed to enjoy your presence, you still sent the boy into a full blown melt down. When Brian chased you down that alleyway and you saw his eye, you'd never seen such hate. Did he still hate your guts? Than there was Tim, the leader, not the power hungry type, acted a fool but he was smarter than he let on. You didn't know how to read him.

You believed Tim to be contemplating calling you bitch for ole times sake. To belittle you or show camaraderie, you weren't sure.

"I know what it's like ya'know, (Y/n)?" Now you turned to him with a dumb look of shock. He was trying to relate to you, to make you feel better. Who was this man and what had he done with Tim?

You blinked, using your only defense left, humor, "I already know you're a dumb bitch." You forced out a laugh. Your emotions were a muddied mess, a mixed big of hate and acceptance. You just wanted to feel okay but you didn't know where to start. So, you pushed it away with a flimsy laugh.

"You know what I'm fuckin' talkin' about." Tim called you on your bullshit instantly, looking you in the eye. He looked almost insulted, but he was being the bigger person for once, his dark eyes seeming to beg you to listen to him.

You were emotionally exhausted. From waking up next to someone who had one arm last night and now had two, to having a casual breakfast with your murderous roommates, to finding out Dan fucked over your entire life. You didn't have the energy to push him away once more. For once, you didn't talk back to Tim, you just held his gaze silently.

He noticed this with a raise of his brows, he was expecting some bark from you.

" **He's** been around my whole life." Tim started, repeating information he'd casually thrown your way the other day, eyes drifting to the stream babbling in front of you. "I could sit here 'n go on about how my normal life got turned upside down but I can't. My life's always been a fuckin' train-wreck." You blinked, not expecting him to give you more backstory.

Some people like to tell personal stories and anecdotes to let you know that they understand what you're going through, that they're there for you. Tim was doing that. Tim was trying to be there because he was so sure you'd be one of them. So why not rebuild the bridge that you burnt, just like his face?

Tim let his words hang only a few seconds before continuing, "Tried what that asshole did," He was referring to Dan, "Trying to get away. I didn't intentionally fuck anybody over though." Tim had no room to insult Dan's moral compass from where he stood as a sadistic murderer but he did anyway. You appreciated it a lot, a small smile playing on your lips. "It was okay for awhile then it all went to shit, even more than it already was." Tim forced out a bitter laugh as he looked back up to you. Eyes searching yours, looking into you like you were a mirror.

"Got dragged back into it against my fuckin' will." You could relate to that. "I never wanted this bullshit, wanted to be normal. Now all my friends and Alex are dead." He paused a moment. You didn't know who Alex was but him dropping his name apart from his unnamed friends was telling, was Alex his Dan? "Except Brian, but he died too." Tim laughed, reminiscing softly, "I kinda killed him but we're good now."

_What the actual fuck?_

So Tim and Brian knew each other before all of _this_ , whatever this was. Tim somehow had a hand in Brian's death and they were so okay with it, that Tim was laughing about it. His weak smile faltered and fell back into a face that conveyed exasperation, "What I'm sayin' is, I get it. Thinkin' you need to be alone, bein' alright with it when you it's hurting you. I was like that too and it fuckin' sucked."

"You're saying that you're here for me." You croaked, the idea of a teasing smile playing on your chapped lips. 

"Yeah." He quickly averted his gaze to the water running past you both, the babbling filling the comfortable silence between you. You grabbed the jacket that lay on your back, pulling it on one sleeve at a time. It wasn't one of yours. You recognized the tan, the strong scent of menthol and smoke. It was one of his extra jackets, part of his work uniform. There was surprisingly no disgust, wearing a murderers jacket, you were already a murderer, no better than him. Accepting it was an act of completely accepting your fate, whatever it may be. It wasn't yours to choose, someone else would decide what you wore, but you could decide to accept it, wear it with weak pride.

Be like them. Not alone. Bare your feelings.

"Softie." Was the first thing you let slip past your lips, the floodgates were opening. Him sharing his past with you, showing empathy and a fucked up compassion by spilling some details about his also shitty past. You were going to do it, you were going to be completely vulnerable and open with someone for the first time in four years. Well, not completely yet. You hadn't known each other long enough to tell him about all the embarrassing shit you'd ever done. He's also yet to take you to diner and a movie.

Tim let out a huff, "I'm not soft for being nice to you of all fuckin' people."

"You caring about how I feel is pretty soft of you, Tim." You teasing, elbowing him softly, attempting to organize your thoughts and shitty life story, into an easy to digest verbal format. 

"Whatever." He wasn't going to affirm your ideas, he'd given you enough validation already, you were fine with what he gave you. It was just enough.

"My life was pretty simple before it got all fucked up." You started, looking to the water passing by your feet. You wondered if he knew that already, if Brian somehow knew of your earlier years. If Brian told his partners about your life story or if he didn't care to. Not wanting to talk about work, you were a job at the time, but now you were someone to him, not someone special but a human. Growing to be on equal ground. Maybe he respected you enough to not dump your life story, dirty secrets, and gross habits onto his partners.

"Lucky." Tim chimed in abrasively. The Operators influence had only been in your life for four years, not showing itself to you for the majority of those four years. You had it good compared to Tim. You couldn't even fathom the kinda horrible shit he'd been through.

"Yeah," You breathed out in agreement, looking at his profile, strong sloping nose and his obnoxious, dark sideburns, "Met Dan and Jen real young, Grew up together." You were still crying, "Thick as thieves me 'n Jen. Dan hated my dumb ass," You let out a huff of a laugh, you'd hate teenage you too, "Fell in love with Jen. Kissed her once then the next day we killed a guy." You drummed your fingers idly on the boulder, "Dan had us separate. Messiest break up ever, I can tell ya that." You shook your head, recalling their faces, their voices, time spent together, the time apart. 

It was a bit too personal but honestly, you just wanted to dump all of the information onto someone, anyone, even if it was Tim, "I tried to fall in love again ya'know. Dated here and there in college. Never been able to get as close to anyone." Your tears were bitter, not in mourning but at what you couldn't have, what was taken from you, you turned and watched the water.

"It's hard to fall in love when you can't tell your partner everything. One time I was with this girl, don't remember her name," You were oversharing, "She thought I was cheating on her because I'd go off the grid for hours at a time. I've always been a terrible liar. Told her some bullshit about being depressed, true but it was more like guilt over fucking killing somebody. She knew I was lying but she got it wrong, I wasn't cheating. Just feeling bad for myself." You recalled all the self pity, all the woe-is-me bullshit, you didn't feel bad for yourself anymore. You didn't deserve to be dragged into this bullshit but now that you were here, a triple murderer, you thoroughly earned your spot in this misery. That was fine. "It fucking sucks not being able to be completely honest," Your breath hitched, "I just wanted to be in love n' shit." You recalled your old high school day dreams, living in a cottage in Maine with Jen, three cats and a bunch of plants. "But Dan fucked it up." You growled, bitter sadness falling away to a mountain of hate.

The tears had come to a stop with the cathartic act of getting the heavy weight off of your chest. Telling the truth, that you just wanted to be loved when you would never get to be loved. Summarizing a few key life events and haphazardly blaming everything on Dan. He was at fault for getting you involved with The Operator, but you still made a lot of choices on your own. You could have ignored the letter, thrown it away. There was a hope deep in your gut that you could reconnect with Jen, fall in love again. Even though part of you hated her. Even though you no longer knew her. You just wanted to be vulnerable and loved. It could have been The Operator's influence that led you to the cabin or your desperate desire to be accepted. Either way, you went and you didn't think that **he** had anything to do with it.

"He sure fuckin' did." Tim's comment wasn't needed but it was a small reassurance that he was listening intently. 

"I wanna say that I can't believe he would do that, but I totally can." You sighed out, "He ruined everything." That was an obvious and known fact but you needed to voice it. Your life wasn't in your hands, you were used as some sort of meat shield. "Fuck that guy." There was so much more you could say but the floodgates were slowly falling shut, emotional exhaustion taking over once more. 

The soft _'flick'_ had your head turning to Tim. You saw him pulling away a lighter, flame going out as he took a quick drag of his cigarette. Were you that depressing that he needed a smoke or was is just that he was addicted to them?

Looking from the cigarette then to you, he removed it from his lips, holding it between his pointer and middle finger, offering it to you. You took the cigarette, fingers brushing together a moment as you unsteadily held the item in between your fingers. You'd never smoked before. 

You didn't want to die. You had no intention of getting hooked on the things and fucking up your lungs. Yet, you'd had a really shitty morning, if Tim was going to offer you something that might ease the pain, you were going to take it. 

You placed the cigarette between your lips, not really sure how to proceed other than take the longest inhale possible. Instant regret. Hot smoke burned its way passed your tongue, down your throat, and into your lungs. You tore the cigarette from your lips, doubling over and began to cough. Tim let out a breathy laugh, he'd probably knew that was going to happen. Asshole.

A firm hand patted your back as you hacked your lungs out. It wouldn't further push the smoke from your lungs but it felt like it was helping. It was human touch after all. One that didn't want to wring your neck, it was a comforting action. 

Even though you'd ceased your crying, tears threatened to spill once more as your coughing fit subsided. You weakly held the cigarette out to Tim. "Thanks but," You let out a dry cough, sitting up slightly taller, "That was fucking awful."

"First one's always the worst." The hand stayed on your back while the other took the cigarette gently from your fingers. You looked to Tim who smiled with a quick raise of his brows. He took a puff of the cigarette, not letting out a single sign of distress. He pulled it away, blowing a small dissipating cloud into the morning air with an easy smile. It reeked of smoke but that was fine. The jacket smelled of it, so did your lips, and so did Tim. You smelled like shit together. 

"Showoff." You huffed, lungs dull aching in your chest. 

"You're just a big baby." Tim teased before taking another drag off of the cigarette, looking you in the eye. 

You opened your mouth to give him a friendly yet biting retort, reveling in his hand on your back and the earlier dose of validation. Then, Tim puffed a cloud of smoke in your face. 

Recoiling and scrunching your nose, you halfheartedly scolded him, waving your hand in front of your face dramatically to get rid of the smoke, "What the fuck, Tim?"

"I'm being too nice to ya. Gotta remind you that I hate you." The message was rude but his tone was light and teasing.

You took that as a challenge. You don't just comfort someone when you have an insane lack of empathy and not care about them. He cared about you, he just wanted to play it off as him being a good leader. Looking out for the new recruit.

"Sorry about setting your face on fire." You started out earnestly. You weren't incredibly sorry about it but it did fuck them all up pretty bad, reasonable at the time but now it was a hindrance in your developing relationships.

His hand harshly patted your back, a light slap, "Just don't bring it up and we'll be even." Awfully fair and friendly for someone who claimed they completely hated you. You didn't believe that Tim and you were the bestest of friends just yet, him trying to kill you in Brian's room the other day was very uncool of him.

"Sure thing, _buddy._ " You threw the nickname back in his face, grinning devilishly. A few days ago he used it to antagonize you. Now you were using it as a friendly jab.

"We are not buddies." Tim said, keeping his comforting hand on your back. While you were wearing his jacket, that he brought with him in case you were cold. He was a lot more caring than he made himself out to be. You could see why the others respected him so much as a leader.

You were tempted to say that actions speak louder than words. But that'd have him pull his hand away and you wanted it there.

_"Sure, sure."_ You sighed the words out, letting Jen's last words roll off your tongue. It wasn't okay but it was at the same time. You could have had a good life with her but that wasn't your reality. Your reality was here and you accepted it. 

Though you did wonder, what would happen if **he** did not allow this reality to continue? What if you were rejected?

"Hey Tim?" You began. The man hummed while taking yet another drag off of his cigarette. "If it rejects me, how would you kill me?"

Tim paused a moment, tensing, his eyes flickering to you. He was so sure of your joining, he may not have a plan in mind. Maybe he was recalling all his other plans for you, plans he had while stalking you, how he'd torment you for hours, delighting in your screams. Sighing, the light gray cloud flowed up and away from his lips.

"I don't really know." He admitted hollowly, "Too many good options." He slapped the comment onto the end of his statement with a weak smile.

"Don't keep me in the dark, buddy," You cracked a smile at death, he smiled back, "What's the nastiest, most fucked up death, you have in mind for this sonnovabitch?"

You spat the words out, they were bitter on your tongue. You didn't want a horrible death, but you deserved one. Might as well be ready for it if things come to that. You could give Tim some notes on how to make your death way cooler. You were shocked at yourself, you were half joking, half serious, but you'd also proven to be a masochist. Why the fuck not have a horrible death? You only get to do it once, you wanted to go out with a bang.

"Hmm." He drummed his fingers on your back, making you recall all the times he'd done it on your door that night, a shiver shot down your spine. "I could bash your brains in." 

"Boring." You interjected as he was about to rattle off more execution methods. You never thought you'd think that was a lame death, not cut out for someone like you. Man, you were fucked up. 

He blinked, raising his brows at you, "Boring?"

"Yeah bitch." You added as much sass as your scratchy throat would allow. 

"Well." He made his signature creepy eye contact, you weren't in any danger but it sent a chill down your spine. You accepted the chill, the terror that would always hang around the men, "I could get Toby to-"

"I'm talking about _you_ dumb ass." You were tired of feelings, talking of mindless violence towards you was familiar and oddly cathartic. You weren't exactly okay with being hurt, you weren't delusional. You weren't a doll to be fucked around with but you wanted what you deserved. "If if was just you and me, how would _you_ kill me?"

You put him on the spot. He stared dumbly at you for a second too long. You smiled cooing mockingly, "You haven't thought that much about killing me the past few days, huh?" That could be very wrong but it was still fun to rib him.

"I've thought about it plenty. Non-stop." Tim pushed the words out with a shaky conviction. Like he'd thought about it here and there but didn't heavily consider anything. Maybe he was keeping his options open for how he was feeling in the moment?

"Oh yeah?" You tilted your head to the side, his fingers still drumming on your back. "Then what's the worst way you wanna kill me?" You smiled, fear gripped your heart, it thundering in your chest as you stared Tim down. It was scary but it was a conversation away from the Bakers, away from your emotional bullshit. Violence was an easy concept to grasp. So here you were; masochistic and stupid as fuck.

You could feel his hand gliding up your back, fingers lazily dragging along his jacket. "Maybe set your face on fire." He lowly suggested while keeping up his intense eye contact.

"I thought we weren't talking about that?" His hand was on your upper back now, still slowly rising.

His hand was suddenly on the back of your neck. You jumped but stayed glued to your seat, you were afraid of him but you trusted Tim to not hurt you. Even though he was completely allowed to and your heart was thundering in your chest. So long as you didn't die. 

" _You_ can't talk about it but _I_ can." Your body was tense, mouth ajar, Tim smiled at your silence, not questioning his authority on the subject. 

You and Tim were companions but you wouldn't take that shit laying down, "That's pretty hypocritical." You were afraid but you weren't done pushing his buttons just yet. You were mending the rocky start to your forced companionship but that didn't mean your progress would be completely linear. You still found pushing his buttons incredibly fun. "Didn't take you for a hypocrite but: You're a narcissistic asshole, a huge bitch, and you have a tiny dick. I'm not surprised that there's more." You were terrified but you were smiling smugly, the insults giving you a rush of adrenaline.

There was a quick squeeze on the back of your throat, his thick fingers digging lightly into the sides of your neck. The healing bruises ached weakly under the slight pressure and you felt a quiet gasp leave your lips.

"Don't fuckin' test me (Y/n)." His voice was low, his eyebrows knitted together; you couldn't tell if he was joking still but you were oddly enjoying yourself.

Blinking a few moments, heart rate speeding up, you spoke, "Okay, pancake ass." 

The childish insult rolled easily off your tongue. A habit. When you thought Tim was a normal guy back at the diner. You'd often refer to him as having a pancake ass as Sully drooled over him, blabbering about how hot the guy was. You regretfully, agreed. 

You wondered how the ginger was doing. You hoped he'd stop seeing 'bad boys'. The type of men you were around nearly all day now. They were alright but you didn't want Sully getting dragged into the same shit you had. Dan was one of them, if Sully met him in high school, he probably would have had a puppy crush on the man. He probably would have used Sully too. 

Tim was smug, an easy smile on his face from your obvious fear but also because the mutual banter. He still felt the need to express some sort of weird dominance over you. You didn't think he had bad intent in mind, it was out of habit, just like your sharp words. Your relationship was a developing one. Only just starting to grow friendly, after him trying to kill you and you setting him on fire. It was still fucking annoying that he felt the need to get physical with you. Than again, they all seemed to have no problem with getting hurt. Pain and injury was something to be shrugged off as a proxy. If you were to become one of them, you'd start to shrug it off as well. He knew you weren't one of them though, he knew getting hurt was a real threat to you. Then again, you started antagonizing him because it was fun, he was returning the favor in his own way. 

It was a playful but hollow threat, you thought.

At the comment about him having a flat ass, he relaxed his hand only to lightly squeeze the back of your throat once more. You jumped, less this time but it was still alarming. Adrenaline producing a terrifying high that you were able to enjoy because you knew Tim wouldn't hurt you.

" _I do not have a panca-"_

_**B A N G !**_

You swiveled your head behind you at the ricocheting crack, genuine fear spreading through your body. Tim pulled his hand from your neck, idly leaning back. "It's just Brian." He observed as you strained your eyes to somehow see through the forest. "You should probably go shoot with him." You heard Tim shift, boots crunching over the wet pebbles that sat beside the creek.

You followed the action, swinging your legs from the boulder, standing uncomfortably on the pebbles that dug into your feet.

"Why's that?" You asked, knowing whatever he said you were going to go anyways. Shooting a gun made you feel powerful, it gave you a satisfying sense of purpose. You needed to feel powerful, in control for one goddamn second. Everything in your life was out of your hands and you just wanted to feel like you had control.

_" **He** may want you to come on a mission soon." _You looked to Tim with wide eyes, begging him to tell you that he was just joking around. He didn't smile. "You're going to want to be prepared." That was true, if you were going to accompany them, if you had to kill someone: you wanted a death instant and without pain.

You highly doubted you could do it again, end another human life. You already hated yourself, everything you've become, hated everything you once were. Jealous over how much you'd taken all of your privileges for granted. You were at rock bottom already, you didn't want a pickaxe. You wouldn't kill yourself, but you'd live with the guilt when you already had so much guilt weighing you down. Survivors guilt and the guilt that came with killing three people. 

You kept your mouth shut.

"You have no idea where we are, huh?" Tim's tone was still serious but he added some semi-lighthearted jabbing in there, referring to your reckless ass running blindly into the forest. 

With tight lips, you nodded. 

"Come on then," He turned, quickly tilting his head to the path of trees ahead of him, "I'll lead ya to Brian."

For being two big mouthed hot heads, you and Tim had been awfully quiet on the walk to Brian's makeshift shooting range. The sound of fabric shifting, feet on grass, birds in tress, and gunshot filled the air. His words had sunken deep into your bones. A mission. You situation was real but it was hard to grasp at times. An eldritch twink considering you to work under him. Your only pay being the companionship of the other poor bastards he had working for him. You knew of the possibility, you'd thought about it from time to time but would always push the thought away. It was a horrible thought that you didn't like to entertain. Funny, as all of your thoughts nowadays were pretty fucking awful.

**_B A N G !_**

The cracks only grew louder, at first they reminded you of that night, of Hoodie, of Brian. The things he'd done, how he fucking traumatized you. He was forced to, by the twink, and there was also the matter of circumstance, using you as a stepping stool to feel better about his situation. A bully. Just like Dan. When you were dragged to hell by Dan's and their hands, the living men, the murderers, took you in begrudgingly while Dan had left you in the dark to struggle. They showed you hell, that there was no way out, but at least you'd have them. They understood, beat into the same corner you were in. You were all each other had. They fucked you up really bad. You returned the favor. You're all human. Full of contradicting resentments and care, camaraderie and hatred, a swirling yin and yang.

_**B A N G !**_

Tim pushed the foliage aside, showing you the cleaning you and Brian had shot cans in earlier. He was only a few feet away, back to you, pistol in his hands. If he heard you both he made no indication of it. Two firm pats on you shoulder had you looking to Tim, he was going to leave. You smiled at him, stepping through the little path he held open for you. You gave him a weak wave as you entered the clearing. You'd have to return his jacket later, grateful for the warmth it provided, grateful to talk about shit with him. He smiled eyes flicking from you to Brian, probably grateful he wouldn't have to deal with you anymore or grateful he found Brian to dump the responsibility of you onto him. Despite what he'd said, Tim still seemed to like being alone.

The foliage rustled as Tim let it fall shut. You turned, noticing a pistol laying on its side right next to Brian. 

"It's loaded." Brian didn't look your way as you approached the gun. He knew you well, you'd expect no less from your stalker of an indeterminate time. He knew that you'd need this, that you'd come and find him. Spend time with him and the cold metal.

You bent over, the guns handle cold in your hand as you wrapped your fingers around it. Standing with a straight back, your dominant arm straight, your non-dominant arm bent and supporting the other, you brought the gun up. You don't know what Brian was waiting for but he hadn't shot his gun in some time. Your finger wrapped around this pistol's trigger before you realized, the safety. A thumb shifted on the guns handle, flicking the switch with a soft ' _click'_.

"Good job."

**_B A N G !_**

The sudden gunshot should have startled you but it didn't. Brian had been listening to see if you'd remembered what he told you. Brian was weirdly dramatic in that way. Always liking to be quiet, vague, and an absolute bastard. Him firing a gun after giving you genuine praise was something he would totally do. It was almost like he was saying, _'I_ ' _m trying to help you through some shit with a relieving activity and praise. Don't forget though, if The Operator wills it, I will crazy murder your ass.'_ You'd dealt with a lot of conflicting thoughts and feelings today, you were just going to sort Brian's actions under the 'cool and good' category. 

You steadied the gun in your hands again, pointing to towards a can of what you think was spaghettios. It made you think back to Toby, sweet boy, excitable, still a murderer though. He still killed Jen. Your mind quickly shot to the teenage love of your life, how Dan betrayed his own sister. Why couldn't he do it to someone else? Why did it have to be all of you? His sister, his girlfriend, his weed dealer. It wasn't like you could ask him his probably flimsy and hate fueled reasoning, he was in a casket. Buried next to the sister he betrayed. You pulled the trigger.

_**B A N G !**_

A complete miss. It could have been the way your hands tightened around the gun, gripping it like it was your lifeline. Like you needed it to feel whole. Firing a gun at metal cans wouldn't fix your broken heart that was shittily mended. Thinking of Jen made you think of the betrayal Dan gave to her, something she didn't deserve. The anger you felt on her behalf wasn't love. You didn't love her anymore. You clung onto the memory of a dead girl and you needed to let her rotting hand go if you ever wanted to feel somewhat okay. 

Let go of her, she was doing you no good. All her memory did was whisper in your ear that you were terrible for accepting the men's company. That you were submitting to them. That wasn't true. You could shoot Brian in the back right fucking now. He'd be fine and he just might shoot you back but that wasn't what kept you from doing the deed. You didn't shoot Brian because he was here for you, in the darkest days of your life. He caused some of them but now you were side by side, hand in hand, at the mercy of The Operator. With only each other to turn to. You didn't shoot Brian because he was a cool guy sometimes. You guessed that you could say that you liked him.

The ghost of her, her memory wouldn't shut the fuck up. She told you that you were a piece of shit, you deserved to feel unloved, that you should kill yourself. You told her to suck your fat man meat. Her memory wouldn't be forgotten but you put her ghosts opinions, your shriveling pathetic excuse for morals, down with the pull of a trigger. 

**_B A N G !_**

The spaghettios can flew back, a few bits of metal exploding off of its cylindrical form. It wasn't exactly a bullseye, you got it in its lower half though. You actually hit the can on your own, not just a graze but a hit. " _I fucking did it! I_ ' _m the shit!"_ You barked out the compliments towards yourself. You had a rough morning, a little self love was due. 

_**B A N G !**_

A can nearly exploded as a bullet lodged itself in its center. It zoomed out of sight, falling somewhere that you didn't care to look. Your eyes were on Brian. " _I'm_ the shit." He spoke coolly still turned away from you.

"We'll see about that!" You needed a little friendly competition in your life. It was a fun little game, you knew you'd lose, but it was a game nonetheless. You needed some good fun in your life, especially after the news you'd just received. You focused your eyes on the next can sitting on the line of rotted fence posts. You were determined to get a bullseye. 

_**B A N G !**_

Another hit, not a bullseye but a hit! Not bad for shooting something small from ten or so feet away. A stationary object but you discarded the fact. 

"Nice shot." Brian complimented you for your second hit. Things in life had been rough, you weren't getting many compliments these days. The compliment was on a new skill that Brian was undoubtedly much, much, better at than you. 

Dopamine fueled your muddied brain, sparks of joy overtaking thoughts of a dead man. Brian's compliment fueled you to aim once more, you were going to impress him.

_**B A N G !**_

It was a bitter feeling to miss when you were so determined to pull another compliment from Brian. Your shots weren't that impressive at all. However, you were just a beginner in shooting. Brian also knew that you needed some positive energy in your life. Either he complimented you because you were learning quick or because he wanted you to feel better. You couldn't tell. Either way, it was nice because no matter what way you looked at it, to some degree he cared for you.

"Toby's worried about you." Brian confessed out of the blue.

_**B A N G !**_

There was only one can left standing after Brian shot one right through its center. He lowered his gun as he turned to you, an act of peace. You mimicked him. He really cared for his boys well being. It was sweet. 

"I'd be worried to." You huffed out a laugh. You had waddled out of the house crying with a stab wound, leaving a perfectly good breakfast behind. It was pretty concerning.

"I am." You cursed his apathetic tone and unreadable expression. You couldn't tell if he was concerned for you or if he was concerned about Toby's obvious attachment to you. 

"Why?" No matter his intent, the statement confused you, "It could decide if it wants me dead any day now, ya'know?"

You weren't much of a pessimist but it was true. Getting attached to you was one thing but when you could die any day was another. Toby was excitable, happy about having someone new around. Tim was just happy that you made Toby happy, he was a simple guy under all that incessant barking. Brian however? He seemed the most calculating, the most aware of your possible death. Him giving even the tiniest shit about you wasn't logical, it wasn't very _Brian_ of him. Then again, he was a hard person to read.

"You make Toby and Goober happy." So that was it, you were just a dopamine machine for Toby and _your_ dog. "And." _And?_ You blinked at him, confused as he let his words hang in the air. You couldn't tell if he was being bashful or dramatic. "You're not unbearably stupid." He looked you in the eye while he confessed to you, confessed that he didn't believe you to be completely brain dead. Another compliment.

You smiled, high on dopamine and a little bit of budding friendship, "Just admit that you care about me." 

Brian as straight faced as ever, didn't respond for a good while. He started you down and you stared back, only slightly unnerved from your past experiences of him staring at you. 

It felt a lot longer then you knew it was when he finally broke the silence.

"I'm still mad about they alleyway, (Y/n)." You hadn't forgotten that look in his eye. In the moments before he turned back to help his partners, he looked like he was going to rip your spine from your back with a single hand.

You'd apologized about the alleyway incident once today, you added another apology to the count, "Sorry I set Tim on fire and upset Toby." The apologies were directed at the way that you made his partners feel, you knew that's what he cared about more. You still added a more person one onto it, "Sorry about also setting you on fire." He didn't say anything so you continued, "I know my words can't take anything back." You didn't know if you would take your actions even if you could. Those events led you to here, alive and with him, "I know when your boys are hurting, you're hurting and I'm sorry what I did upset you." That was the most genuine apology you'd said in fucking months. You were kinda proud of it. You don't really know where the sudden tact had come from but you were glad that it came to you. Hopefully, Brian and you could be cool. You hoped you could rebuild this burned bridge together. As comrades, if you get to live.

Brian looked to his gun, then to yours. Uh-oh. 

He turned on his heels, pointing his pistol to the last can standing. "Draw." Brian was dramatic, a bit petty, but you didn't think he'd challenge you to a shoot off on a can. "I'll consider forgiving you if you can hit the can before I do." But he was.

You were going to lose for sure but you'd play, and you'd play dirty if you could. If you were going to live with them, you needed him to forgive you so life would be a little easier.

"On three?" You asked, a sly plot developing in your brain. He may be annoyed at your deception but it'd count. Brian nodded in response. "I've always wanted to do a countdown for a shoot off, you mind if I do it?" He only glanced in your direction. He was smart, he probably instantly picked up what you were about to do. He nodded anyways.

"One." You pointed your gun at the can, steadying your dominant arm the best you could. Shutting one eye, aiming from the rear sight.

"THREE!"

**_B A N G !_**

**_B A N G !_ **

You skipped two and Brian caught on the second the number left your lips. You pulled the trigger as you began to say the number and Brian squeezed it a few milliseconds after you. He knew you were up to something, but he realized your plan too late, hardly by anything. He could have let you win. He could have done it for show, act like he wasn't as easily forgiving, act like you needed to impress him. Work for his forgiveness. You hoped that you had actually bested him.

Your bullet hit the top of the can, it being forced back while Brian's entered its side as it began to fly back. You both hit it, but your shot landed first. You were fucking ecstatic. You landed another shot, beating Brian at his own game. Unless he purposely let you win. If he did, you'd be a little disappointed that you weren't as good or as clever as you thought, but it meant Brian was an even bigger softie then he let on. 

"I win!" You turned to Brian with a shit eating grin. No matter which way you sliced it, he had to consider forgiveness now. You'd taken a huge step in the right direction.

"That was a dirty trick, (Y/n)." Brian turned his head to you with a lopsided smirk. You hoped it was because he was impressed by your cunning.

"I know." You were practically bounding on your heels. Today started good, got real shitty but then, it quickly recovered. Relationships being established on more equal grounds. Friendly banter, someone to relate to, compliments, it felt good. The early afternoon didn't take away from the fact that, the man you thought as the one who gave you deliverance, was actually a huge selfish piece of shit. It helped a whole fucking lot though.

"So?" You raised your brows questioningly at him. 

"I'll work on forgiving you." Brain's smile was soft. That wasn't the deal though.

"I thought if I beat you that you'd _consider_ forgiving me. Not start working on it." You weren't complaining, just confused at the change.

"Do you want me to not?" Brian tilted his head, a small teasing smile on his lips, turning his body toward you. Lowering his gun, you'd forgotten to lower yours. It was still aimed at the area the can had once been. You brought it before your hips, pointing it at the grass between your feet.

"No! I just don't know where the sudden change of heart came from." You huffed playfully. You wouldn't admit it but a small pit had formed in your stomach at the idea of him dropping the idea of forgiving you.

"You earned it, only a little." Brian retorted, still not explaining himself. 

"Meaning?" You cocked a brow at him, not catching his drift.

"I think that you're," He paused, seemingly mulling over the words in his head, lips pursing thoughtfully, "Okay at best."

You took in a sharp breath, eyes widening, " _Holy fuck! I'm okay?!"_

If anyone was listening in without context it'd sound like you'd had a near death experience with how your voice raised up a few octaves. Calling yourself okay felt ridiculous but come on! Brian thought you were okay! You should have taken him considering you to be ' _okay at best_ ' to be an insult. This was Brian though. He was much more subtle than his partners and he held grudges like a motherfucker. Him calling you okay was a good thing.

"Yeah." He chuckled at your exclamation, taking in the stupid grin on your face with an easy smile, "You're okay sometimes."

You couldn't stop grinning.


	29. 28 - I Like You

There was nothing to wash yourself with except for the accused three-in-one. You didn't have any room to give Tim and Brian a firm talking to about not buying new products. You were still the newbie after all. Yet, you did complain and get Toby to join you. He didn't know what you were going on about for a little bit but then he started going on about how he liked smelling like you. If you didn't know Toby as well, you'd be creeped out. Toby meant well by his comment, he didn't articulate things like you were used to but it was nice. It's nice to have someone enjoy your presence so much that they want to smell like you. Especially coming from him, someone who was always outside getting covered in dirt and god knows what else. He never smelled good for very long but he liked it.

Now you were here, waiting for Tim to find the car keys. He misplaced them and was rummaging through his room to look for them. You could hear a river of obscenities coming from the hall. 

You sat on the couch, leaning on the armrest, relaxed. Brian sat on the opposite side of the couch, leaning over a bit to see what Toby was doing in the armchair. Toby had been scribbling away in a spiral bound notebook the entire time the three of you had been sat in the living room. 

The boy must have rummaged through Tim's closet as he was wearing a checkered flannel, red and black. Though it wasn't loose fitting, if he truly stole it from Tim it'd hang off of his frame. It fit him well, not like you were staring at the way it clung to thin waist and strong arms, definitely not staring. His jeans were a dark blue, the fabric of the knees completely torn away and dirty.

You leaned forward in your seat, trying to get a good angle on the notebook. You couldn't see shit.

"Hey Toby?" His head snapped to you, a small smile on his face. "What'cha doing?" 

"It's a sssuh-surprise!" Toby chirped, staring at your confused face for a few seconds before going back to scribbling. He paused his scribbling for a moment to jerk his shoulders back and into a quick roll, face grimacing as he did so.

Brian took one last glance at whatever Toby was doing, then to you with a knowing smile. He pushed himself up from the couch and padded quietly into the hall.

Brian had been wearing baggy jeans, unfortunate as he, though you'd never say it, had a kinda nice ass. He was smart enough to wear a t-shirt without the worst saying possible on it. It was a plain black and almost normal. It had a little pocket on his right breast with the image of a little white cat inside of it, like it was sitting in his pocket. 

All you had left to do was wait and talk to Toby. 

Toby looked up from the paper, meeting your gaze, "You sssuh-see ssuh-something you like or what?"

He was really riding out the whole 'you calling him cute over text' thing. He'd leave it be eventually, hopefully. It made the boy happy, so you let him have his fun. It wasn't like they weren't easy on the eyes. It was just hard to ogle over the same guys who only a few days ago tied you to a chair. You were still a little mad about that but it didn't make them suddenly ugly. 

You'd always been passive about Toby's little comments, letting him be happy with himself. You weren't going to ruin his fun, Tim and Brian accepted you but if you upset their boy, they'd break your ribs. You were going to play along, a sly grin crossing your face, "Yes actually! I do. You look cute today Toby." 

Toby paused a moment, blinking dumbly as a slight blush played on his face.

_Fucking got him!_

"(Y/n)." Brian's voice cut through the lighthearted moment. You turned to him with an easy smile, he was approaching, a black hoodie hanging off one of his forearms. His fingers gripping a pair of sunglasses. "We're going out, you need to cover up." 

You were going to say that what you were wearing wasn't inappropriate at all. Leggings and a t-shirt weren't showing too much skin, now was it? Then you remembered, your face was plastered on the news a few days ago. You could only imagine what happened after you killed Doug. You killed him in a parking lot, there had to be cameras. If there were, shouldn't the boys be worried if they or the van got caught on tape? They didn't seem bothered in the slightest though. 

Either way, the idea of going out was an exciting one, but not as much anymore. It would be like having a piece of candy dangled in front of you while you were on a treadmill, no matter how fast you ran, the candy would always be out of reach while you had to spin your wheels. You couldn't be normal, but for a few minutes you'd get to exist in the public eye. Seeing what you couldn't have. 

The public didn't have what you had. Companions who truly understood you. There's no bonding like being able to deeply relate to someone else's trauma. You missed your apartment, you missed work, you missed your shitty but fun coworkers. You were here now and that was the past. Though you missed it, you'd never felt such a sense of belonging. It was strange, you'd only been friendly with the men a few days but the tidbits of acceptance and validation you'd received were like shots of heroin, stronger than anything you'd really felt. You'd had deep bonds in your life but no one had ever been able to talk to you about how much an eldritch twig sucks or how you felt literally killing people.

With a shaky inhale, you held out your hands to receive the clothing. Most of your clothes were in the wash right now. The washing machine was in Tim's room, you had learned recently, in an offshoot of his personal bathroom. Of course the leader of the murder posse gets the room with the personal bathroom.

"Thanks." You spoke as you began to throw your head through the thick fabric, setting the sunglasses next to you. The hoodie wasn't one of yours for sure. It was way too big. Your head popped out from under the massive hood, your hands not even reaching the ends of the hoodie sleeves. You had to pull them up, the fabric scrunching into itself until you could see your hands. You pushed your (h/l) (h/c) locks back, further pulling the hood over your head. You pulled the hoodie strings as tight as you possibly could, until the hood was framing your face, and tied a tight bow. You then popped the sunglasses over your eyes, your surroundings turning a deep blue.

"How do I look?" You probably looked like an over sized baby, a cool over sized baby. 

"Dumb as hell, let's go." Tim's gruff voice had you looking around Brian and to the mouth of the hall.

Everyone in this house had a thing for blue jeans and it was fucking concerning. Did they wear anything other than blue jeans and pajama pants? Aside from the predictable choice of pants, Tim wore a brown button up, top buttons left open, due to laziness. His sleeves rolled all the way up to his elbows. He looked like a normal guy leaning on a wall, like one time he hadn't bashed Henry's brains in.

"You look okay." Brian smiled down at you as you hopped to your feet. 

"Thank you!" You gasped out dramatically. 

"You look guh-good!" Toby one-upped his partner, shutting the notebook and putting it on the armrest before jumping to his feet.

"Ugh." Tim grumbled, he didn't exactly hate you but it was very obvious that you annoyed the fuck out of him. "Hurry up." With that he paced into the kitchen, the front door quickly groaning as he exited the building. 

"Lets gguh-go!" Toby practically ran out of the room. Standing, the hoodie fell around you, covering your frame completely, ending just before your knees like some weird skater girl dress. You walked after him, a moderately paced hobble. Running with a still healing stab wound wasn't a very good idea. 

You were excited to go out but you were also petrified. What if someone recognized you? What if you got arrested? Well, police in the past had proved to be incompetent and just generally bad at their jobs, but still. It was worrying but you had the boys, they had evaded the police like it wasn't even shit. 

Brian walked around you, opening the front door for you, expression unreadable.

"Thanks, Brian." You mumbled, only sparing him a glance before your eyes fell to the van. The Baker family mini-van that they'd stolen from Dan that night. You wondered how Dan convinced his father to give it up to him in the first place. The van was like Mr. Baker's baby. He probably did it by shady means. 

Tim was in the passenger seat, he could drive but whenever Brian was available, he'd drive. The back doors were slid open, you couldn't see Toby in the second row of spaced out chairs, he must be in the back row of conjoined seats. Smiling as you climbed into the van, shutting the door behind you. You thought that Brian only drove so often because Tim probably had the worst road rage ever.

"(Y/n)!" Toby called from the back seats. You looked down the isle between the two chairs that led to him. A gloved hand rapidly patted the seat next to him, "Sssuh-sit with me!"

You weren't even going to play coy about it. You wanted to sit with him, it was positive human contact, it was comfort you longed for the past four years. Smiling, you made your way down the isle as Brian hopped into the car. 

Toby sat in the window seat, leaving you to choose the other window seat or the middle seat. Despite the middle seat usually being for youngest siblings and people with small asses, you sat there anyway. You knew Toby would scoot your way if you choose the other window seat. You'd sit in the middle seat like a clown, for Toby. 

Brian started the car and soon enough, you were all traveling down the uneven pathway towards society, and of course Toby started chattering, asking you question after question. 

"Sssuh-so, what's one thuh-thing you miss?" It was a loaded question but an innocent one.

You looked to Toby other than the passing nature. You could be a downer and say your friends, having your own bed, which you'd ask about eventually. Sleeping on the couch was starting to fuck up your back. 

"Chapstick." It was true, you hadn't moisturized your lips in fucking days and you were going to lose it. It was something you thought about a little too often, even in your new found home, misery, and developing friendships. You thought about chaptstick a lot.

Toby perked up at this, a cheeky grin spreading across his face. Nodding he spoke, "Good to knuh-know."

The drive was far from quiet and it was a long one. You didn't mind, it felt like a little road trip. One where your wrists weren't tied together and you weren't unsure of your destination. Tim had informed you that you were all headed to Walmart. Being in The United States and the south made things easy. Brian could stock up on ammo while you and the others grabbed things like shampoo and groceries. 

Brian pulled the van close to the stores entrance. You checked your disguise to see if any of your hair had fallen from the hood. You climbed shakily out of the car to meet with Tim and Brian. Toby followed close, hovering behind you.

"Alright," Tim began, sounding like a mother explaining something very simple to her dumb ass kids, "Brian is going to buy ammo. (Y/n), Toby, and I." Tim shot a warning glare to a grinning Toby, who'd slapped a bandage over his gash to attract less attention to himself. " _We are going to stay together_." He articulated every syllable with care, "We are going to buy some things for the showers. Do you both understand?"

You could tell it was mostly directed at Toby, as Tim was staring at him so intensely even you felt the daggers, but you nodded anyway. Anxiety constricting your throat as you looked to the large tan building. Toby vigorously nodded, hair bouncing to and fro as he did so. 

"Okay good," Tim relaxed his stance, "So Br-"

Toby bolted for the front doors of Walmart the second Tim looked away from him.

" _Toby! Goddamn it!"_ Tim yelled after him, power walking after the sprinting boy. He didn't want to lose you and Brian, but he wanted Toby to not cause some sort of scene. You'd never been shopping with the boy before but you were worried and a little excited. 

"Come on." Brian shoved his hands in his pockets and let out a breathy chuckle at his partners, who had already made their way into the store without you both. You smiled up at him a moment, a silent agreement that the other two were idiots. They were your idiots though, well, mostly Brian's. 

The inside of the store was air conditioned, it'd be nice if you weren't feeling a panic attack coming on, a heavy fear in the back of your mind making the world feel like it was going to collapse and there was no oxygen. You were out in public. You never thought you'd be in it ever again, you thought you'd be dead by now. You ruined other peoples lives, you shouldn't be here, you didn't belong. 

A firm hand placed itself on your shoulder, an arm loosely draping itself around your back. You looked to Brian, he'd put an arm around you, "You're okay."

You didn't belong in public, with the normal people, the non-murderers. Things weren't exactly okay but you had them. You belonged with them. You smiled at him weakly, letting his touch ground you, feeling your nerves slowly begin to fade away.

"I can't fuckin' find Toby." Tim jogged up to the both of you, looking more annoyed than concerned. 

"We'll find him," Brian kept his hand on your shoulder, "It'll be fine, Tim. Don't worry." Staying calm as per usual. 

"I'm not worried! I just know the little idiot's gonna do something. I dunno what, but he's gonna do _something stupid._ " Tim spoke with an irritated conviction. Brian began to walk, you fell in step with him. Before, his hand on you, guiding you to the bathroom were a threat. Now it was a comfort. A reassurance. 

You cracked a smile at the supposed incoming stupidity, thinking of all the stupid things that mess of a boy could do in a Walmart.

"I trust him to not do anything too bad." Brian spoke with a playful certainty. You were all walking toward shelves with their products that were locked behind glass.

You'd have to accompany Brian to talk to the clerk and you were still a little too spooked over your new surroundings. Social anxiety was the wrong label for it. It was more of an intense fear that if the clerk saw you they'd immediately recognize you despite the huge sunglasses, hidden hair, and frame.

Brian squeezed your shoulder lightly. The bruises had yet to heal from when he'd had you up against the wall. It was a touch of comfort that brought a dull pain to your sensitive skin.

"I'll be right back." He'd caught on to your obvious anxiety, hand sliding away from your shoulder. You watched him walk up to the counter, striking up a conversation with the bored looking clerk. 

You didn't really understand a lot of things about the men. Brian had supposedly died. Was he legally dead? Did whatever family believe him to be in the ground? But here he was, buying ammo in Walmart. If he was legally dead, did that mean he had a fake ID? You wondered where he'd even get a fake ID good enough to buy ammo with. Money was less of a mystery, just steal it off the bodies of those you killed. They could steal clothes and other goods off of them if they wanted. Perhaps they didn't because shopping made them feel more normal. It was a group activity they could do once a week or so, it was a normal routine. 

"You scared to talk to the cashier or somethin', (Y/n)?" Tim teased, you turned to him with a small frown. He'd stayed behind to accompany you. To keep an eye on you from disappearing like Toby or to keep the possibility of a panic attack at bay. It was sweet.

"Tim," You turned to him, offended at his condescending comment, "I will fucking destroy you." You smiled at the hollow joke of a threat. 

He was taken aback for a second before smirking, taking a step forward. Standing way too close, just like he'd done so many times when you thought he was a hot but socially inept creep, his shoes just barely touching the tips of yours, "I'd like to see you try."

His low retort just egged you on. You knew what this man was capable of but you were in public, he couldn't do shit here. He wouldn't anyway.

Standing on your tiptoes, fists balled at your sides, and smiling you challenged him, "Square up then leader man." 

He chuckled at you trying to get on his eye level, trying to be as intimidating as him. He cocked a brow and asked, "Leader man, really?"

"Well yeah," You dropped the challenging tone, explaining the very obvious name, "Because you're in charge." Your voice had a hint of ' _are you fucking stupid or what_ ' in it. 

Tim's smirk turned to a devilish grin, "You're right. I _am_ in charge."

You didn't like the haughty tone he'd adopted. He was getting cocky over such a simple statement, you'd bring him down a peg. "You're still a bitch though." You flashed a cheeky grin, trying to stand taller on your toes. 

Tim's grin shifted to a look of annoyance, his fingers twitching at his sides. He wanted to wring your neck, he was too easy. "Why yo-"

A hand was back on your shoulder, lightly pushing you back to the ground. You looked up to see Brian, plastic bag hanging from his free hand. He was already done.

"You can fight later." Brian sounded incredibly entertained, you wondered how long he'd been watching you both. "For now lets get some soap."

Tim was the leader but when Tim got mad, his critical thinking seemed to go out the window. Brian took the reins from Tim for the moment. If he didn't, Tim would probably choke you out in the middle of Walmart. 

Tim backed off out of respect for efficiency. He pointed a thick finger at you and jokingly threatened, "This is _not_ over."

"Prepare to catch these hands, leader man." You looked to Tim, who walked beside you, fists up, ready to be thrown, elbowing the man playfully. You fell in step with Brian, his hand gently resting on your shoulder again. 

_**"Clean up on isle eight."**_ A female voice droned over the loudspeaker. None of you paid it any mind.

"Stop flirting you two." Brian teased, both of your heads snapped to the man.

" _I am fuckin' not!"_ Tim barked almost immediately, denying the joking claim with a bit too much conviction. 

" _Ew! Fucking gross!"_ Calling Tim gross backhandedly was incredibly satisfying. You thought, as you knew that he knew, that you'd called him a lot of objectifying names over texts with Sully.

Brian only chuckled as the three of you turned into an isle. It was lined with colorful bottles, body wash, shampoo, conditioner, razors, and feminine products. You let the embarrassing subject drop with an annoyed sigh. For being a loudmouth, Tim let it drop pretty easily as well.

There was a beat of silence between the three of you as you traveled down the isle. Then Brian paused. You looked his way as he pulled a purple and yellow bottle from the shelves. Your eyes went wide at the label, ' _18-in-1 Hemp Lavender Soap'_. None of you had opted to grab a shopping cart but you knew he was going to buy it. Brian was one for efficiency and that bottle of nightmares could supposedly do eighteen different things. You didn't want to know what.

"Brian." You spoke with the most commanding tone you could possibly muster, "Put that back on the shelf, right fucking now."

Brian looked to you, confused but amused at your attempt to try to boss him around. "Why?" He was genuinely confused though, "What's wrong with it?"

Your mouth dropped open, " _WHAT'S WRONG WITH IT!?_ _Are you serious!?"_ You were looking to be quiet, not draw any attention to yourself as you were a known fugitive. At Brian's horrible question, you couldn't help but yell, your voice peaking.

A hand was slapped roughly over your mouth, lightly squeezing your cheeks.

Your eyes shot to Tim, "Be fuckin' quiet." He hissed, it wasn't exactly full of rage but it was a tone that told you that you were dumb.

You scowled at him as your tongue darted out of your mouth and dragged itself across his palm. He tore it away with a sound that could only convey disgust, wiping his hand on the side of his pants. He grumbled, shooting you a glare. 

Smiling in victory, you turned to Brian who had the smallest smile on his lips. Entertained by both of your stupid antics.

"You!" Speaking again in your not very convincing demanding tone, "Put that back or I _will_ scream."

_**"Clean up on isle nine."**_

Brian looked down at you with an apathetic expression, "Will you now?" He was challenging you, in a way that was playful as you knew he wouldn't hurt you. Yet him not smiling, using his usual face of disinterest made him all the more unpredictable. The little motherfucker.

Murdering people you knew, mentally tormenting you, not okay. However, the real problem here was the fact that Brian was unironically going to buy an eighteen-in-one.

_"Literally_ _so fucking loud_." You hissed as he lightly squeezed your bruised shoulder once more.

This time it was a playful threat, most likely hollow but it still had your heart thudding in your chest. You weren't going to back down though. You'd die on the hill of good hygiene. These dickheads wouldn't listen to you if you just threw empty threats at them, you needed to convince them.

"Don't you want silky smooth hair?" Your voice took on a quality that commercials would be jealous of. "Don't you want moisturized skin? Honestly, you guys have really dry skin and I'm concerned for your health." You looked between the men with a wavering smile. Please for the love of god, put the eighteen-in-one back. 

Brian blinked, you think you saw a smile before he put the bottle on the shelf, thank god he was willing to humor you.

"Well what do we fuckin' get now?" Tim abrasively asked, his genuine concern was alarming. 

"Oh that's easy." You chirped, taking steps down the isle. This time you were leading the way. You paused in front of lightly colored bottles. "Literally any of these." You gestured your arms before the bottles, "Just," You had to make one thing very clear, "Shampoo, conditioner, body wash, all separate. No more three-in-ones. You are grown ass men, not teenage boys. Get it together." You lightly scolded. You understood it was because they could care less for their physical appearances but, come on. They were fine with smelling like cheap cologne and having crusty skin, it was disgusting. 

_**"Clean up on isle ten."**_

Tim didn't look like he was enjoying your tone but he sucked up his pride. You had a good point and you knew it. The past few days, their hair looked so nice and they didn't smell as bad! A real improvement for your stinky murder boys. 

Since he was the leader though, he seemed to want to decide on the scent. You had thought of this, you'd led the men to the 'women's' section of the isle. For some reason companies liked to gender soap and they always made the soaps 'for men' really fucking awfully smelling with the stupidest names they could think of. Women's soaps were no better but it was a step up from, 'Arctic Storm', like anybody knew what that smelled like. 

Tim scanned the bottles with mild interest before he snatched three separate bottles. No more three-in-ones for the murder shack! 

"What'd you get?" You were still skeptical of his tastes.

"Uh." Tim awkwardly steadied the bottle in his hands, reading the labels, he grabbed them randomly. Of course. "Citrus blast, Vanilla bean, and sea breeze." He read off the tittles skeptically.

You weren't appreciative of the skeptical look he gave you, "Oh so that's worse than 'dark temptation'?" You clicked your tongue at the man.

_**"Clean up on isle eleven."**_

Disregarding your comment, Tim spoke, "Who's the idiot who keeps fuckin' shit up?"

You shrugged, quickly remembering something. You walked out of Brian's grasp a moment, walking past a mildly confused Tim. You grabbed a blue box, feminine products. You were not going to use toilet paper to get through your periods. You were a grown ass woman, you weren't ashamed of grabbing the box.

"Oh yeah." Tim observed as you walked back over to the men, a smirk on his lips, "Always forget that you're a girl."

Some women don't have periods, they don't exactly make you a woman. Despite being surrounded by men you didn't see yourself as 'one of the guys', because that was a really dumb misogynistic construct. Either way, Tim's dumb comment made you think of an old joke that you didn't dare voice. You thought of clueless men, akin to the ones you now lived with. Them calling their partners and asking, "Hey babe, what pussy size you wear?" You sucked your lips into your mouth and let out a choking snort of laughter at the thought of Tim genuinely asking if there were different sized pussies. 

_**"Security to isle twelve."**_

" _That's our idiot."_ Tim sighed, looking exasperated. He shoved the bottles towards you, "I'm gonna go get him." 

You adjusted the bottle in your arms, tucking the box under your arm as Tim jogged down the isle. You and Brain slowly followed, you assumed that's all you needed. As you headed down the isle, you caught a glimpse of Toby running past your isle. He was covered in food products, absolutely filthy, you were impressed by how dirty he was. He was clutching multiple small boxes in his arms, looking over his shoulder with a grin as men in blue chased him down.

" _Get back here!"_ One of them screamed as Toby ran out of sight. Tim sprinted out of the isle to go get to Toby before security did.

Concerned, you turned to Brian, "Should we help them?" 

He shook his head as you both exited the isle, walking to a cash register, "They can handle themselves." He had a small smile on his lips, it only grew when more shouts from security entered your ears. 

A few breathy chuckles escaped your throat as you approached the cash register. You'd forgotten all about your anxiety of being caught with Toby's antics. You tuned out the woman and Brian's initial greetings, looking over your shoulder at Toby running out of the stores entrance, tailed by four men in blue and Tim. You turned, realizing that you were holding the bottles and the box, you had to put them down for the woman to scan. 

"Will that be all for you both today?" She asked, a small on her thin lips. Brian hummed, pulling a wad of bills from his jean pockets. She packed the items into a single white plastic bag. "That'll be twenty-two dollars and sixty-three cents." She informed, Brian passing her the dollar bills while she gave him the bag.

"I can carry it." You held out a hand while the woman opened the cash register. If you were going to be one of them, you'd pull whatever weight you could. It was hardly anything but still, something was better than nothing. The woman put a handful of dollar bills in her palm to pass to Brian while he handed you the plastic bag.

You smiled up at him, grateful he was allowing you to do something other than be depressed, shoot a can, or cry. "Your change will be seven dollars and thirty-seven cents." The woman's eyes darted to you, taking in the massive hoodie that hung from your frame, the sunglasses that seemed to take up half of your face that slid down your nose ever so slightly. You pushed them back with a finger, afraid if she saw your eyes she'd somehow recognize you. She just smiled softy, "You guys are a real cute couple." 

You were expecting a scream or her calling for security. Not her accusing you of being in a relationship with a man who'd choked you but not in the good way. You stumbled over your words a moment before you pushed out with a sheepish laugh, "No, no! We're not together." 

"Hm." The woman shrugged, "My apologies. Have a good day." 

You and Brian turned, you hiking the bag up your arm, "You too." You chirped, heart thudding and afraid she'd know who you were. Still, the strong instinct to be polite to someone who worked in customer service overtook your need to keep a low profile. 

Hobbling along, Brian rested his hand on your shoulder again, and you could have sworn her mumble, "Ahh, to be in the dating but in the 'not really together' phase. Cute." You tightened your lips into a line with a huff, trying to brush the comment off. She didn't know you, she couldn't turn you in or judge your relationship with Brian. 

As you both made your way to the sliding glass doors, you asked Brian, "Hey, are the others going to be at the car?" You had no idea where the two had gone after they ran out of the building. The van was right by the entrance, they couldn't just hop into it right in front of security. Brian had the keys too. Toby would have to shake the men and Tim was probably helping him. You smiled at the thought, you wished you could see it.

"Absolutely." Brian deadpanned as you walked out of the stores doors, "Don't underestimate them."

You looked at him, baffled. Underestimating them wasn't what you were trying to do. They'd only left the building a minute or two ago, if they lost the men by now, you'd be floored. They were good but there was no way they were that good.

"Alright," You said softly, looking out to the crowded parking lot.

Brian had long legs, he could easily outpace you in a normal walk. You also had a stab wound you weren't too keen on reopening. You were going at a snail's pace, but Brian slowed his gait to walk side by side with you. It wasn't him quietly telling you to keep in line or else. It was him being there if you needed him, you were companions after all. You were all each other had and making up for your rocky start seemed to be on both of your minds. You were glad, things were looking up. 

You continued to push back the reality of possibly going on a mission with them. You'd accepted a lot of things but you didn't want to accept the reality of having to hurt another human being. You couldn't do it. Not again.

Approaching the car, Brian fished the keys from his jean pockets. Pressing the button on the jingling keys, the car let out a soft ' _click_ ' as its doors unlocked. You didn't see Tim or Toby and there was no way they could be in the car already. You were getting a little worried. Then you remembered all the horrible shit they were capable of, tearing apart others bodies while theirs could heal from anything.

As you slid the car door open, you took note that the door on the opposite side was also opening. They'd been waiting on the opposite side of the car, out of sight. The opening reveled a mess of a man, Toby. His hair held an oozing liquid, green balls of what you could only assume were peas sat in the thick substance. His flannel had all sorts of stains on it, mostly white. Flour perhaps? There was a yellow substance smeared around his knees, you had no idea what that shit was.

What in gods name did he do?

He hopped into the car with a massive grin, colorful boxes tucked into his arms. A few peas dropped from his curly locks and onto the floor of the mini-van. Your eyes were taken away from the smiling man as the passenger side door opened and Tim threw himself into the car. You saw that he had some of the yellow substance on his clothes now, smearing it on the seat when he sat down.

_"Tobias Erin Rogers! Timothy Wright! Get out of the car, right now!"_ Brian barked, the harsh command had you jumping and turning to the man. His brows down turned, mouth twitching into a frown, he looked pissed and disappointed at his partners.

The men listened, throwing themselves from the car, not before Toby threw the boxes into one of the seats and shut his door. They sulked around it to meet you and Brian on your side. Tim looked just about done with his situation, hair thrown every witch way, somewhat resembling Toby's. 

"Both of you, in the trunk." Brian commanded the two.

"But!" Tim barked angrily, ready to fight his partner on this. "Toby st-"

"I don't want to hear it!" He sounded like an angry mother, the situation was comical but his commanding voice was terrifying, "You two are filthy. Get in the trunk, now." The punishment was odd, one you hadn't really seen before.

"But I wanna sssuh-sit with (Y/n). I-" Toby whined, still smiling. This was more of a game to him, getting Tim in trouble as well only sweetened the deal. 

"Trunk." Brian's tone suddenly fell even, too even, icey. A chill traveled its way down your spine even though you knew nothing was going to happen. "Both of you are going to clean the trunk when we get home." 

Despite Tim being the leader, his word being able to overrule Brian's, he sighed.

"Fine." He accepted the conditions. Brian would listen to him. That didn't mean he wouldn't be allowed to be pissed about his partners getting the car that they stole dirty. Tim seemed to deeply cherish their relationship and probably didn't want to be given the cold shoulder by Brian for three weeks. You'd never had the chance to see Brian being domestically petty but you wouldn't put it past him, the man could hold a grudge like it was nothing. "Come on, Rogers." 

Toby whined childishly, weakly reaching an arm to you while Tim grabbed onto his other, dragging him along. "Think of muh-me!" He cooed dramatically as Tim pulled him to the back of the car.

You heard Tim pop the trunk open and the car rocked as they both climbed inside of it. You blinked dumbly, "What the fuck just happened?" 

Brian patted your shoulder lightly, you turned to his unnaturally straight face, "Toby and Tim being left alone for more than thirty seconds." You cracked a smile, a sharp chuckle escaping you.

You had no idea what the men had done, how Tim got dirty, how the security officers hadn't caught them, how they got to the car first. Either way, you didn't doubt now that when Tim and Toby were together, they had less than two brain cells. 

"Do you want to ride shotgun?" Tim had left the door hanging open, the yellow substance lightly smeared on the seat.

You crinkled your nose in disgust at it, "Sure."

You'd still sit in the front with Brian, it'd be nice. You shut the passenger side door before walking around the car. Seeing Brian jump into the drivers seat, grabbing napkins from the cup holders and wiping the seat down. He knew his partners and their general lunacy well.

Climbing into the van, you looked away from Brian while he started the car. You focused on buckling yourself in, putting the plastic bag on your lap, and shutting the door. You could hear Tim and Toby's muffled arguing from the trunk, not being exactly able to make out what they were saying. If you knew anything about Tim, he was probably calling his companion a 'fuckin' dumb ass'. The thought made you smile as Brian backed the van out of it's parking space. You remembered how long the ride was, roughly an hour. They were going to be in a moving vehicles trunk for an hour. Brian was a terrifying and sadistic man. 

The ride was quiet. Brian didn't have much to say. You didn't dare talk to him. He was being nice to you today but you did not want to fuck with him after he sent Tim and Toby to the trunk. If you did talk to him, it'd be something to not send him off the edge. You didn't exactly know how to approach him though. Then he flicked on the radio.

_Feeling sick of myself, think I'll try to be someone else, can't be hard to paint a person, in my head create a version, a parallel_

You weren't expecting soft vocals like this. You were expecting heavy metal then again, at the diner he proved to have an insane sweet-tooth. He didn't look it, but he was a big softie for his companions. There was a lot more than meets the eye with Brian.

_Pull my head out the sand, try as hard as I can, guess I must be satisfactory, you said you love me exactly the way I am_

You wondered if Brian related to the lyrics or if he just liked the music. 

_And you know I find it hard to understand, pay a visit to the doctor 'cause I have_

You shot the man, focused on the road ahead, a questioning glance. There weren't many other cars on the road. It could be that it was the early evening, right after everyone went home from work. It was golden hour, the time before the sun set and illuminated everything in the suns light in a soft golden hue. He glanced your way, a small smile on his lips. He knew that you were confused as fuck, mystified by the contradicting qualities he held.

_A sweet tooth for you I'm wide awake, the sugar went straight to my brain, feel like a kid, I double tap, my chest with my fist_

This genre of music, you weren't expecting from him. You weren't expecting the lyrics to delve into the more mushy kind. You blinked, staring dumbly at him with your mouth slightly agape. He must have hooked up something to the radio, there was no fucking way a radio station in Alabama would play this kind of stuff. This kind of music was big, but not mainstream pop or eighties rock, it didn't get played on radios.

_I like you, say it back, say it back_

He looked back to the road while you kept on staring. He was scary, unpredictable, calculating, but sweet. 

_Never had a cavity, never had nobody as sweet as you, smooth around the edges, good as new_

He still wore a smile, you didn't know if it was at your confusion or the pleasant music. He probably knew you were staring but you didn't care. You could look wherever the hell you wanted to.

_Gently insulating every rendezvous, caught myself blaming planets, like you do, I know every line and curve of your tattoos_

The golden sunlight wasn't playing fair. Brian was a good looking guy, you both knew that you thought that. Yet, it's hard to ogle at the guy after you found out who he really was. After all the horrible shit he'd done. You had no room to judge and you'd say that you were cute, even though you're a triple murderer. The light laid itself on his skin, rimming his profile in an ethereal golden light, making his brown hair look like honey and his hazel eyes seemed to sparkle. 

_A sweet tooth for you I'm wide awake, the sugar went straight to my brain, feel like a kid, I double tap, my chest with my fist_

The light stretched itself across his skin, accentuating his strong cheekbones, the soft look in his eye, his stupid stubble that framed his face so well. He was a beautiful man, if he wasn't a legally dead murderer, he could be a fucking model. 

_I like you, say it back, say it back_

The lyrics reminded you of Jen. You let the memory of her roll over you. She couldn't hurt you anymore. It did suck though. She was the last and first person you'd ever said a romantic 'I love you' to. It didn't matter if you had love here. You had the boys, love or not, you'd make it through the twigs bullshit together. Though you'd always yearn for it, you didn't see it in your future. 

_Sweet tooth for you, my dreamin' space, is filled with scribbles tore the page_

At a stop sign he turned his head, catching your observatory gaze. The light shone a soft golden spark in his eyes. His gaze wasn't angry, annoyed, or indifferent. He was smiling, amused at catching you very obviously staring. With a quick raise of his brows, his smile evolved into a crooked grin, showing off his tooth gap. His eyes crinkling in a way that was much too cute and endearing for a sadistic murderer. He was an observant one, he stalked you for a long ass time, you had an embarrassing inkling that he knew that you were totally checking him out. Instead of indifferently brushing you off, he had decided to smile at you. 

_Decipher them with colored paint, repair the stitches in my veins_

It wasn't a fake smile like at the diner. One that told you that he wanted to rip your throat out, that he was acting, and he wanted nothing more than to torture you. He was being silly with you, the newbie. He wanted to mend your rocky relationship. You were all for that, but having him catch you staring was more embarrassing than you thought it'd be, his sickly sweet smile making your heart skip a beat.

_Sweet tooth for you, my honeydew, I'll see you in my garden soon_

You were embarrassed, heat flooding your cheeks, but you weren't going to back down. You lunged forward only an inch, much like the many mocking jumps he'd done to you. This time though, it was you doing it to him and under much friendlier circumstances. He wasn't surprised at all, he gave you a long blink before he let out an amused huff. You broke the staring contest, you had a lot of balls, looking death in the eyes multiple times, telling it to suck your dick. However, having a hot guy staring you down under the friendlier circumstances had you embarrassed. You could feel the redness in your cheeks as Brian softly chuckled at you.

_Beneath the skin it's cardiac, a safety pin, I like you, say it back_

The ride home was spent without the exchange of words. The only thing you heard was the cars soft ambiance, muffled fighting, and romantic songs with a soft and sweet aesthetics. You found yourself looking to the road ahead, definitely not because you were too embarrassed to even glance at Brian again. You just appreciated the quiet peace. Though you didn't look at him, his presence was overwhelming. Occasionally humming lyrics to the songs that played, turning up the volume when the fighting in the back of the car got too loud. You could only think about him and it wasn't the dreadful fear fueled thoughts you had when he'd terrorized you. It was something foreign and nauseating.

Seeing two grown men blasted aggressively with a hose was a fun sight. Especially if one of them was a shithead, Tim, or as you now knew, Timothy Wright. You wondered what Brian's full name was as you watched Tim get pummeled with a stream of water with his arms crossed and a scowl so sour he looked like a toddler. 

Brian gave them no time to explain themselves when you all got home. By the time they'd climbed free of the trunk, Brian had grabbed the hose and sprayed them down. Tim shouted in shock and mild anger while Toby delighted in the water. You bet the water was freezing, Toby couldn't feel the cold but Tim could. 

As someone who didn't dirty themselves at Walmart, you didn't have to deal with Brian's scolding. You went inside with the bags after watching the show for awhile. Toby kept glancing your way with a grin every few seconds, bouncing on his heels. You didn't see what he stole. 

You put the bottles away in the bathroom while the boys were still outside. Putting the feminine products in the cabinet below the sink. You knew Tim and Toby would need the soap in the shower after whatever the fuck they just did. You barged into Tim's room, your laundry had to be done by now. You looked at the floor, not wanting to see whatever ungodly mess his room must be, and out of a bit of respect for his privacy. In his personal bathroom which you were still immensely jealous of, there was an offshoot with a washing machine and a dryer. Your clothes sat in the dryer, room temperate, free of moisture, and clean. You bunched the heap into your arms, standing with the wad of clothing. You shut the dryer door with your leg before hobbling out of Tim's room. 

Goober lay at your side as you folded your laundry. The shower roared dully from the bathroom. Tim had already showered, he was now in his room, getting dressed and mending his pride. Brian had sat himself on the couch, reading a book that you'd only glanced at. Something about cryptology. 

You moved unused clothes aside to make room for the clean ones. A few soft ' _clink'_ s alerted you to the presence below the cloth. Lifting your clothing, you saw a few miscellaneous bottles of nail polish, you'd completely forgotten about them. They brought back bittersweet memories of Sully. You'd bought polishes for each other. You got him a vibrant green comically labeled ' _Mean and Gay Starbucks Barista_ ', he loved it. He in return got you a bright pink called ' _Stupid Whore Pink',_ you would not deny the nail polishes claims. You set the bottle beside your suitcase with a smile. You missed him but you had new people in your life, you still wanted to wear the shade that reminded you of your best friend. 

A soft thumping informed you of a presence approaching you. You stuffed the last of your clothes into the suitcase, turning to see Toby standing behind you, colorful boxes tucked under one of his arms, the other held the spiral bound notebook he'd been scribbling in earlier. He was back in his black t-shirt and fuzzy pajama bottoms, wet hair sticking to his forehead, a cheeky grin across his lips, bandage gone and revealing the gash that you no longer saw as gruesome, it was just part of Toby. It was just a part of him and he was a good guy, as good as a murderer could get.

Suddenly, the boxes were shoved in your face, you took them into your hands as Toby plopped himself down next to you. You glanced to the boxes, they were relatively small and rectangular. They were a bit crumbled where his hands had gripped them, a bit filthy with an unknown powder. Each was a different color, each a different scent and brand. It was chapstick.

"I duh-didn't know what kind you like sssuh-so I got as many as I cuh-could. I have sssuh-some more in my room if you want to ssu-see." He chirped out. There was more than this? Jesus Christ.

He stole chapstick for you because you mentioned that you missed it in passing. 

You stared at the boxes in your hands. Was it weird to get emotional over chapstick? Because you were getting emotional over chapstick.

"Toby, oh my god." You started, disbelief in your tone but a smile on your face, "Thank you so much, holy shit." You set the boxes down between you both, opening the top box. You pulled a small red and white tube of chapstick from the similarly colored box. It was your run of the mill cherry chapstick. You honestly didn't care what scent or flavor it was, it was chapstick and your lips were dry. You ravenously apply the balm to your lips, Toby watching the action intently. 

Capping the chapstick with a small ' _pop'_ , you looked to Toby with a grin. "Hey, what happened at the store?" As happy as you were, you were curious as to why he showed up at the car with peas in his hair. 

"Oh!" He perked up, rolling his shoulder back and jerking his head to the side. "I didn't know-ow where to get chapst-chapstick so," He giggled to himself, you found yourself smiling warmly at him, "I looked all over the puh-place. I may have tripped and knuh-knocked over a few things then fell into another thuh-thing and another. And then anot-another. It took me forever to find any," He looked to the little tube that you held between your fingers, "Those guys wouldn't sstuh-stop chasing me and I had to knock stuh-stuff over to sssluh-slow them down but!" He plucked the chapstick from your fingers, uncapping it, "It was worth it!" He applied the chapstick to his lips which were stretched into a wide grin.

He did all that for you. Running from security was probably nothing to him, he probably thought of it as fun, but he braved Brian's scolding. He did it all to get you some chapstick.

You blinked, mouth hanging open, "That's literally the nicest thing anyone's ever done for me." You couldn't stop stupidly grinning over chapstick and the spark of joy in Toby's eyes at your words. No ones ever shoplifted, destroying property, and faced Brian's irritation for you before. The gesture was greatly appreciated and made your heart flutter. 

"Also!" He slapped the notebook on the floor between you both. You leaned down, a hand idly petting Goober as you did so. Toby flipped open the book, pages passing by too quickly for you to get a good idea of what you were looking at. Then, he stopped flipping through the pages, letting you take in the image. In black ink there was a form. A sitting body with a slight lean. Comprised of squiggled lines, spirals, circles, and triangles. It was very contemporary, it wasn't the traditional portrait of someone. It wasn't just their general outline, it was their form comprised of shapes and ideas. Their defining features dotted in with gestural lines. "I druh-drew you (Y/n)!"

You blinked, looking up to Toby. He'd leaned down to take in your reaction with a warm smile, fingers flexing over and over. You lunged forward, arms outstretched.

"Thank you Toby!" You initiated the hug without a thought other than the fact that no one had been that nice to you in a long time. There was Sully but he wasn't with you anymore. Toby didn't have to do so much for you but he did. On your knees, leaning forward with your head on his shoulder and your arms wrapped around his torso. He instantly repaid the favor, arm flinging around your back, pulling you close. His grip was really tight, for a second you thought your eyes were going to pop out of your head. 

You patted his back, "A little too tight Tobes." The nickname slipped passed your lips as he loosened his hold. 

"Tuh-Tobes?" He huffed, chest shaking with a giggle at the nickname.

You were frankly, a bit embarrassed that you called him a nickname so early into your relationship. He didn't seem bothered by it at all though. "Yeah, a nickname." 

"Well look at you two. Gettin' all cuddly 'n shit." Tim padded into the room, dark green tee and sweatpants on instead of his filthy clothing. You figured while running from security the two probably tripped over one another, Toby getting his companion filthy as collateral damage. You smiled at the thought of the irritating bastard tripping and falling on his face. Not a smile that was the smile of someone thinking of revenge, it was more of a smile when your friend stubbed their toe. You knew they'd be fine but it was still fucking hilarious.

Your hands released Toby, he didn't let go, nuzzling his stubbly face into your neck. This was not a man, this was an overly affectionate cat. You weren't complaining as you hadn't felt so loved in years. 

Then it hit your dumb ass brain like a sack of rocks. Did Toby like you?

No way, couldn't be. You shoved the sparking thought aside. Romance was welcome in your life, but it was a complicated thing. Something that had your guts tied in knots and brain fried. You wanted a bit of clarity to enjoy your evening without getting sweaty and confused over his possible feelings for you. Did you feel the same? You were hyper-aware of his hands on your back, occasionally flexing at odd angles. 

He wouldn't let go as that was just how Toby was. You leaned back anyway, to grab the bottle of nail polish that sat on the carpet behind you. You were going to take your mind off of that shit. Fuck love, for now, you wanted your nails to be 'Stupid Whore Pink'.

"Wh-what's that?" Toby's asked, having a view of what you were grabbing.

"Nail polish." You simply replied as Tim sat in his armchair. 

He tore himself away from you suddenly. Before you knew it, he was ripping his signature gloves off of his hands.

"Do muh-mine!" He was practically vibrating with excitement, as he wiggled his fingers at you.

You unscrewed the polish before looking to Toby's hands. You'd only gotten a glance of them once before. He had long fingers with knobby knuckles, nails bitten down past his finger tips, jagged with peeling cuticles. There were small patches of dark hair on his fingers, man, this kid was hairy. The thing that was the most alarming was his uneven skin, especially around his finger tips. It was uneven, slightly warped from what must have been years of scarring over and over again. He must have been a chronic nail biter and then some, his finger tips covered in scarred craters.

Despite his left arm being torn off, his left hand held scars you knew he couldn't have gotten in the time since he'd recovered. Did their bodies always grow back to their original forms if they got hurt? It seemed to be that way, Toby's gash and now his hands being your only indicator so far.

"What are you luh-looking at?" Toby snapped you from your staring, his voice had an edge to it, like he was annoyed, impatient for you to start and to stop staring.

"Oh! Toby I'm so sorry!" You didn't want him to think that you believed that he was ugly or weird. You thought the opposite, his hands were something unique. Unique was always beautiful in your mind.

With a breathy chuckle, Toby cracked his head to the side, "I'm just messing wuh-with you, I nuh-know they look weird." 

He always seemed to be messing with somebody. You smiled, a little miffed but you didn't want to ruin the good mood.

You took his warm hand into yours softly, "I don't think so Toby, I just had never seen your hands before. You're fine." His palms were dry and calloused. For once he didn't intently look at your face, his gaze was fixed on your joined hands. You pulled the polish from the bottle and began to carefully paint his short and uneven nails.

"What the fuck are you two doin' over there?" Tim asked, already on his way over. It'd been a few minutes of you quietly painting the twitching boys nails. For once, he didn't chatter constantly. He was fixated on your hands, you could almost feel how hard he was trying not to tick.

"I'm painting Tobes nails." You dropped the nickname to get a reaction out of Tim. He was always so fun to mess around with.

He leaned over the younger boys shoulder with a quick look of disgust. At the nickname or color, you didn't know. "Don't you have any better colors?" 

You knew Tim was a man, the kind of man to hate pink because society told him to. "Pink is a wonderful color, you fucking coward." You laughed, dragging the brush across Toby's nail. 

Tim scoffed, "No it's not." He leaned back, looking to Brian who was still peacefully reading, "Hey Brian! Pink is a stupid color right?" 

Brian placed a bookmark into what you could only call a textbook. He stood up and padded over to the three of you, bringing himself to the floor quietly.

Smiling, he looked up to Tim, "Pink is a beautiful color. (Y/n), could you do me next?" He stared at Tim the entire time, he was still mad at the man. He'd forgiven Toby relatively quickly after spraying him with the hose and receiving an apology from the boy. Tim apologized as well but Brian didn't baby Tim as much, wanting to bully him a bit. 

"Of course Brian!" You took Toby's other hand into yours as he admired your work, wiggling his fingers excitedly.

Tim let out a, "Psssh!" Yet he stayed instead of marching to his room in a huff. 

You glanced up from Toby's hands with raised brows, "Do you want me to do your nails too, _Timothy?_ " His full name rolled off your tongue with a teasing look. 

He sucked his lips into his mouth, nostrils flaring as he huffed. 

"Come on oh-old man! It's fuh-fun." Toby looked over his shoulder at the older man with a grin.

Tim looked to Toby, who was happily getting his nails painted by you. Then to Brian, smugly looking at him, also waiting for your to tenderly take his hands into yours. He was the only one who'd go without pink nails, be out of the loop. With a dramatic exasperated sigh, he sat down. Creating a semi-circle of men around you.

"Fine. Just don't fuck it up (Y/n)." Tim shot you a weak glare, pink dusting his cheeks. Pink was a good color on him, you wouldn't tell him that though. He wanted you to do him as well, the most abrasive motherfucker on the planet wanted you to take his hands in yours. Letting you paint them 'Stupid Whore Pink'.

You grinned, "No promises, _Timothy."_

The mission was the furthest thing from your mind.


	30. 29 - Mirror Mirror

You shouldn't have done it. You shouldn't have pushed the thoughts back, ignored the very real possibility of a mission. You wanted to live in sweet ignorant bliss with your demented companions forever. Life never goes the way that you want it to. You should've seen it coming, with all your experience in shit going awry.

The melted and contorted mask on your lap was a reminder of who you once were. A wannabe good person. The person who in a desperate attempt to escape, set Tim's mask ablaze. He had an extra mask, once again a strange precaution for someone who killed for a living, which he had on his lap. For the mission, you'd be wearing the mask that you fucked up. White porcelain blackened and charred, especially around the heavily melted nose. The smooth surface was matte and warped. The paint on its black lips had either melted off or became a mess of dried bubbles. 

He could have given you one of his many extra jackets. He could have let you keep the jacket he'd lent to you the other day, but he didn't, he was still a dickhead. Tim still seemed to bit a little miffed about the whole you setting him on fire thing. So, he gave you the singed flannel. It's collar was completely gone, and it hung loosely off of your shoulders. (S/c) flesh peaking through the holes singed into the shoulders. The flannel he wore the night you ran away together, the night he betrayed your trust and laughed in your face about it. Then you set his ass on fire. It brought about bitter feelings that you'd pushed to the back of your mind. 

Old resentments began to fester and bubble as you sat in your seat. The singular seat in the second row as you didn't want to be touched. The looming idea of having to kill somebody else gave you a feeling of insects crawling just beneath your skin. You didn't want Toby to lean on you the entire ride. You weren't disgusted by him, you were disgusted by yourself. He'd adjusted to his circumstances while you had not. You were still afraid to kill. You still hated yourself for all that you'd done. 

Leaning forward in your seat, elbows resting on your knees, palms over your eyes, and fingers tangled in your hair. You tried to calm yourself down, hyperventilating, your head feeling light and your throat tight. What if you killed someone again? What if you felt the same way that you felt when you murdered Doug? Strangely okay with it, letting hate and rage take away all rational thought. 

" **He** is just testing you." Brian spoke from the drivers seat as the car gently rocked from side to side. You'd been driving for hours. Your stomach churned dangerously, feeling car sick and anxious at the same time was a horrible combination. "You don't have to get your hands dirty tonight." His words were reassuring, expect for the 'tonight' part. You may not kill or harm anyone tonight but his words implied more missions. More nights, more opportunities to kill another human being. You somehow felt worse. 

" **He** just wants you to be there. **H** **e** doesn't need you to kill anybody." Tim's words were firm. Directions and reassurance all in one. He really was the leader, looking out for the newbies declining mental state. Wanting you to not have to kill anymore than **he** deemed. Wanting to keep your already blood soaked hands a little less bloody. There wasn't much of a point but you weren't complaining. You knew you sucked, but another kill would make you suck more. Your mental state was a slippery slope and every dead body on your hands only added more bloody lube to the fucked up slip-n-slide that was your life. "Just stay outside and let us take care of it." 

The sun had set hours ago. Brian had pulled the van into the side of a heavily forested road. Then, all of you set out blindly into the woods. All of you donning your work uniforms, but your masks had yet to be pulled over your faces. You held the mask by its leather straps, it dangling from your hand, it wasn't very heavy but it was a reminder of the night to come.

They had no flashlights on them, just an innate knowledge of how to get through the woods. Either the twig put the knowledge in their heads or they were that familiar with the woods that you'd never been in.

Toby had taken one of your hands in his, dragging you along the dark forest. You near constantly tripped over your feet, maybe you were the only one blindly walking. Creeping through the woods wasn't exactly your specialty. Brian decided to sweep you literally off of your feet before you twisted both of your ankles. You weren't supposed to be seeing any 'action' on this mission, you wouldn't exactly need to chase after anybody. You'd still prefer to have functioning ankles. 

Yet, the touch made your skin crawl even more. The hands that held you to spare your ankles would soon be splattering brains against clean walls. This wretched man was holding you and you accepted the caring action, leaning your head against his chest for any ounce of comfort you could get. You weren't scared because you weren't a victim anymore. You were one of them, not officially, but one of them nonetheless. A wretched woman being held by a wretched man. 

Tim continued to debrief you as Brian held you in the same bridal carry he always did. They all _knew_ the details of the mission but you did not.

"You need to stay outside. There's very little chance anyone will make it out." The words only drilled in the fact that you were all going to kill people. Them not you. You wouldn't kill anybody.

_"However."_ The word made your stomach drop, feeling like it was going to splatter against hard concrete any second now. Dread gripping at your brain, you internally begged him to shut up, to not tell you what to do if worse came to worse. The thing is, as much as you didn't want to hear it, you were ready to. If things came down to you, if somehow you had to act, you'd want to know what to do. You wanted orders from your leader, you wanted to know how you could help them if things came to that, their last line of defense.

" _If_ someone gets outta the front door, shoot them." He delivered the line as the four of you slowly began to see light through the thick bunches of leafs and brambles. "This is a _really fuckin' important_ mission. _No one_ can escape." You didn't expect him to ever call a mission important, after all, he and the others were forced to be here. Missions had no personal payoff for them other than giving them something to take their anger out on. The only reason a mission would be truly important to them is if it was a tricky one with consequences. You caught Tim's drift pretty quickly, if anyone escaped, the business twink wouldn't be happy. 

**He** would punish you, one of you, two of you, or all of you. There was no way for you to know but you didn't like any of the suggestions your brain came up with. The boys had been through so much, you didn't want them to endure some horrible shit because you couldn't pull a trigger. You didn't want to end an innocent life, but if The Operator wanted them to die, they were probably as good as dead by now. You'd do it but you'd do it for them. Not as some sick emotional reprieve, you were far gone but not like that, not yet anyway.

You really wished that it wouldn't come to that.

The silhouette of the house came further into view, like a flashing sign in the quiet forest beckoning your party. It was a relatively large home but definitely not some sort of mansion. It was more like upper middle class big. You could see a long line of cars packed into the driveway, a lot more than you were expecting. The light switched from blue to red every few seconds, it was a bit disorienting and the bass seemed to make the ground rattle, even from the treeline. 

"There's nineteen people in that house." Tim lowly informed, his partners knew that. "It's going to take awhile." You blinked, turning to the men beside you, Tim pulling the straps to his mask taught behind his head. Brian had pulled his mask over his face after putting you down with a grimace the second the house came into view, you supposed that the flashing lights made him uncomfortable. He didn't give much of a reaction to them, as usual, but him wanting to obscure the light behind the fabric so quickly was telling, along with his furrowed brow. You'd have to ask about that later. 

**"We're going to go slow. We'll be careful not to alert them of our presence so they won't come outside."** You'd completely forgotten about Brian's voice modulator. You knew Brian was Hoodie and Hoodie was Brian. He was the same man who shot you in the leg, the same man who choked you out in your apartment. His mask had followed you in your nightmares yet you'd forgotten about that stupid voice changer. 

You wouldn't deny that you nearly jumped out of your skin hearing it again, outside, on a dark night, when you knew he was armed. A horrible chill ran down your spine and your breath caught in your chest, a reminder of the cabin. You were on the other side now. You weren't a victim, you weren't a target, you were here to watch the front door, shoot anybody who exited. You didn't want to think that you had it in you but you knew you did. You knew how strongly you could react in these situations, you knew you could shoot another human being if it meant not having the boys get hurt. 

One thing that didn't go unnoticed by you was the fact that they were looking out for you. They knew you didn't want to kill again, The Operator hadn't explicitly made it clear that it wanted you to, thus you didn't have to. It just wanted you there, most likely to observe your reactions to the situation. The boys were taking the mission seriously, so no one would get punished and that no one would escape, leaving you to possibly have to shoot them if they couldn't catch whoever it was who'd escaped. 

You slipped the melted mask atop your head, letting it rest there, not yet pulling it over your face. A cold weight was pressed into your hands, you looked to Brian. You didn't have to look at your shaking hands to know it was the gun you'd been shooting cans with. 

**"It's loaded."**

Of course Brian had loaded it for you. You adjusted the heavy metal in your hands, testing the weight of it in your palms. You were hoping that at no point tonight, you'd be glad that it was locked and loaded, ready to fucking kill somebody. "Thanks." Your mouth way dry, your heart was thumping, it was either them in their uniforms, armed, or it was the sense of power the gun in your hands gave you. You felt sick, you wanted to vomit away your anxieties into the grass. Instead you asked a stupid question, "Hey Brian-"

**"Hoodie."** That's right! On the job they seemed to go by their code names. All of them expect Toby, Tim mostly called him Rogers but he'd occasionally slipped up and called the boy by his name.

"Hey _Hoodie."_ You rolled the stupid code name off of your tongue with a hint of annoyance.

**"Yes?"** His modulated voice didn't hide the hint of amusement in his tone. Your eyes flicked to Toby for a moment, hearing the soft pops of his joints as he twitched. The boy had pulled his googles over his eyes already, he was currently pulling his face mask over his mouth, you couldn't help but be unnerved by his smile as he got ready. He was excited to kill people, your stomach violently churned in disgust. Your mind quickly reminding you that you had no room to judge.

"What's with the uh," You considered your words a moment, "Voice thingy?"

He didn't seem phased by this at all, than again, his mask hid his expression, the red frown staring you down. He probably expected the question at some point. 

**"It keeps us safe. Anonymous."** He said, while his other partners didn't even bother with changing their voices at all. It wasn't really needed, you could testify to that. When Tim was hunting you down his voice was muffled but his tone dripped with anger and sadistic delight. It was super different from how he normally spoke. With Toby it was very much the same, there wasn't really a point to hiding his voice. 

"He thinks it's fuckin' cool." Tim interjected, mask sliding over his face, adding the muffle to his voice that sent a chill down your spine. He'd killed and hurt people you knew. He terrified you to the core, what he was capable of, his dreadful mask, his blood lust. Yet, here you were, side by side with him. "Thinks it makes him scarier." 

Toby snickered softly, you looked to him with wide eyes. Seeing him jerk his head to his shoulder while in his uniform made you sweat. People often said they loved a man in uniform but you couldn't quite agree with the sentiment.

They were all horrifying. However, Brian adding the dramatic flair of a voice modulator to his already intimidating self was _so_ him. He didn't need it at all to be scarier but he wanted to be all the more intimidating. A testament to his demented enjoyment of his forced job but also a testament to the fact that he was dramatic, the fact that there was a human being under the fabric frown. 

You forced a nervous laugh from your throat. They weren't going to hurt you, you were comrades now.

"It's scary as fuck, ya'know?" You validated Brian much to Tim's exasperation. "I hear that shit," You looked to Brian, wondering where he hid the voice modulator, "I piss myself." You weren't exactly peeing your pants but you were damn close. From the anxiety of the mission laid out before you but also, the voice modulator genuinely terrified you. You knew it was Brian behind the mask, behind the voice, he was a scary guy already but he was a friend, you thought. The voice itself was just hard to dissociate with violence over Brian's sweet goofy smile.

**"See?"** You turned your attention from the men and to house before you. Blue and red lights continuously switching between one another, rays of light changing through the windows. 

"They've been our caseload for a fuckin' while." Tim explained, noticing your wary gaze. His words implied longevity, you wondered if they'd been actively terrorizing these people as they had with with you. The fact that he called it a caseload made you think he hadn't been having much fun with the job. Maybe they weren't as fun to chase around as you were. The thought that these people were just like you, scared and willing to do anything to live, filled you with a pang of empathy for their plight. The poor bastards were definitely going to die tonight.

You idly wondered for a moment; Who the fuck has a house party when they're being hunted down? Are they unaware of the danger or just stupid?

The boys weren't treating this mission as a game. If they did enjoy themselves, you wouldn't be inside to see it, you were glad you wouldn't be as deeply reminded of the cabin. They were taking no prisoners tonight. Your dead morals were threatening to reanimate, knowing what they were and not trying to shoot them, scream at them. Even if you wanted to hurt them, it'd do nothing but break down the trust and respect you'd built up. They were going to do to these people what had been done at the cabin, you knew from first hand experience that it fucking sucks. At least you could take solace in them being slow and careful, they were going to quietly pick them off one by one. Quick deaths that wouldn't satisfy their sadistic needs, they'd suppress the need for excessive torture and long deaths so you could all go home faster. Being relaxed and having fun only led to you escaping at the cabin. Someone escaping meant the chance of you having to kill again, they wanted to ease you into the murder business, not have you murder someone on your first mission. Ease you slowly into being even worse of a person.

You didn't speak, the gun weighed heavy in your hands. As you swallowed the thick lump in your throat Toby spoke, "Yeah! Took one of thuh-them out the other duh-day."

You were assuming he was talking about the man who took his arm off. Worry shot through you, if only one of them could do that to Toby, what could nineteen of them do? Than again, they were most likely going to pick people off, avoid confrontation with larger groups. You knew they'd take this mission seriously, not fuck around but the excitement in Toby's tone at the idea of killing people was chilling. You knew vaguely that he didn't remember much of his life before all of this, The Operator, killing people with his companions was something that he'd always done in his eyes. He has no past to remember any morals he'd learned. 

You only hummed in response, acknowledging him without words because your throat was constricting. It felt like Brian's hand was on your throat once more, pushing you up a wall and depriving you of air. Yet, there were no hands on you, there was just panic coursing through your veins that you were trying your best to keep under wraps. You had to keep calm, you had to watch the door, you were sure nothing bad would happen, but you couldn't have a breakdown here. You had to focus on your job, just in case it needed to be done. 

All of their masks were on, you could hear them shifting on their feet. Getting ready to make their way into the home.

"(Y/n)." Tim's voice was even, not a barking command, not an halfhearted insult, "No matter what happens. _Don't come inside."_ He didn't need to explain himself further. You understood that they were going about this mission the way that they were for you, so you wouldn't have to see more death. You'd be acutely aware of it but not see it. He was giving you a direct order to protect your weak mental state and the fact that you could still die for real. 

You didn't respond, throat still constricting. He didn't wait for a response anyway, confident that for once in your life you'd listen. He spoke to you not as Tim but as Masky to the unnamed newbie. They all took off towards the glowing building. Rounding the house, keeping low to not be seen from the windows. They quickly disappeared behind the house, blending into their surroundings. It was time to work. A shaky hand put itself over to uneven mask that sat atop your messy (h/c) locks, gingerly lowering it over your face. The warped porcelain was cold on your hot skin. 

You felt ridiculous. Shakily pointing a pistol at a door from behind a tree. Trying to keep your shaky breaths even and your composure strong. Your hands were sweaty, heating up the metal in your hands. The mask felt stuffy to breathe in, you don't know how they ran around with them on, your shuddering breaths spreading hotly over your face. 

You don't know how long it'd been but your arms started to ache a long time ago from how long you'd been pointing the gun at the door. Safety off of course, you'd learned from the best. Your only indicator of time was the moon slowly dragging across the sky, appearing from above the trees and fading in and out of existence with dark clouds. The lights still flashed and the bass was still thumping, you couldn't even tell how many songs had played. You hoped they were okay in there, it looked and sounded like a sensory hell. You assumed the music wasn't loud enough to drown out the blood curdling screams of the dying. You hadn't heard a single bullet being fired, Brian must have had some crazy ass silencer on his gun or he was using a different weapon. Your bet was on a different weapon, a gun with a silencer wasn't that quiet. Unless you considered a jackhammer to be quiet. The lack of verbal panic was your only indicator that the boys hadn't given any of them time to scream. 

A horrible part of you just wanted them all dead already. Your arms hurt, you were tired, you hated wearing the mask, you wanted to go home, pet your dog and forget about all this as soon as possible. You quickly scolded yourself for such amoral thoughts, these people dying wasn't an inconvenience to you. This was a horrible night for them, their last. You owed it to any of them who escaped a quick death. 

The music stopped.

That had you lowering the gun in your hands for a moment. Were they done? The music was probably bothersome but you knew they wouldn't turn it off unless they were done, if not it'd draw the attention of the people in the house, cause tension to rise steadily. You stared at the front door, waiting for your boys to exit. Your stomach churned at the idea of seeing them soaked in blood. You'd just have to suck it up and be happy they shielded you from the possibility of killing again. 

Minutes passed and nobody exited the house. The light still flashed from red to blue, reminding you of lights on a cop car. Yet you heard no wailing sirens or pounding base. You just heard the soft hum of crickets.

_**B A N G !**_

The gunshot had you perk up, aiming once more at the door. You hadn't heard a gunshot the entire time. You knew Brian was too careful to fire off a gun unless he needed to. You worried for them if Brian had to discard his careful approach.

_**B A N G !**_

The gunshots were one after the other. When shooting with Brian he'd proven to have a quick aim but not that quick, he was careful and calculating. 

_**B A N G !**_

Whoever was shooting the gun pulled the trigger the second their gun allowed them to once more. Focusing your gaze on the window by the door, you saw quick snaps of white between the flashing red and blue as the gun was fired in rapid succession. 

_**B A N G !**_

Those were the desperate shots of whoever was left alive. You felt sick. You were consumed with worry.

_**B A N G !**_

What the fuck was going on in there?

_**B A N G !**_

Whoever had the gun wasn't Brian and they were unloading into something, someone. What if the boys were hurt? Too hurt to carry on the mission? What if they were all down for the count? There was supposedly nineteen people in that house, after picking off a few of them, they must have noticed. They must have started to fight back. If only one of them tore off Toby's arm, you anxiously wondered what the gun was doing to your boys. 

_**B A N G !**_

The next flash of white came after a good minute of silence from the house. It erupted from a window in the second story, flashing an unrecognizable silhouette. What the fuck was going on in there? If that person was downstairs, close to the door, why the fuck would they go upstairs? That's just bad logic right there, or one of the boys blocked their exit and they were forced upstairs, herded like a scared animal.

_**B A N G !**_

The silhouette flashed once more in the window. Concern churned in your gut. Tim ordered you as the leader of the proxies to not come inside. Yet, you weren't a proxy. Technically, his rule didn't apply to you. It was a stupid loophole and flimsy excuse, but you were concerned. You wanted to see if they were alright. You wanted to see if the job was over. Hypocritically, you didn't want to see dead bodies and blood. Gritting your teeth, your grip on the gun tightened at the thought of dead bodies. Reminding you of those you'd killed, of how they all weren't the men you'd had a pleasant day with yesterday, it'd be a reminder of what they were. You knew them, you knew the men behind the masks but you didn't want to see their masks. You didn't want to see the atrocious acts they've committed. You just wanted everything to be okay, blood and death free. That's not how things with them worked though. Their hands were red with blood and so were yours. Seeing some more wouldn't dry the metaphorical stains on your flesh. You were still a bad person, a killer. The very least you could do was check up on how the mission was going.

Your first few steps were shaky and uncertain. Your knees had locked up when you first started your watch of the door. The pit of fear and dread in your gut only seemed to grow heavier with every step. They wanted you to stay away from the dirty work as long as possible. You were willingly fucking yourself up even more and you knew it. It was a bleak and horrible thought, you'd see more blood and death as time rolled on. As it kept on considering you, observing you like a mouse in a cage. Why not just rip the bandage off? Why not jump all in and deal with the repercussions after?

You weren't going to throw yourself into the building. You were just going to take a peak through the window and see if the boys were alright. They wouldn't need your help, you were a terrible shot and way worse at killing than they were. They supposedly had years of experience under their belts. You were just going to ease your anxieties, not get involved, that's it.

Whoever set up the house party must have gone all out with the lighting, the entire time the flashing red and blue light hadn't stopped. The bright light momentarily having ethereal red streaks shining through the windows. Then it'd switch to a royal blue, a great contrast to the warm red. No matter what color it was, it was going to make focusing your eyes a difficult task, blinking and squinting rapidly between shifts.

Your legs quaked as you kept yourself low to the ground, approaching the window closest to the door, the cold grass brushing up against your arms. Leaning against the building, next to window, you gulped down your fear. Rip off the band-aid. 

You spun, masked face appearing in the window. You blinked rapidly adjusting to the hellish flashing light. They didn't flash every millisecond, just every few seconds. It was somewhat bearable but also literally the worst. You could hear muffled shouts, a voice you didn't recognize, just one. Your eyes finally adjusted to the light and you saw the room before you.

The first thing you noticed was the body in the middle of what you believed were obnoxiously large speakers. Face down, arms splayed out above his head, the plastic and metal of the stereo had broken around his body. At his midsection his body was slightly hiked up, laying on the partially broken speakers, you could see specks of blood spreading through the back of his jacket. You couldn't really see what was going on as his torso seemed to sink into the speaker, out of your sight. You assumed that the metal and plastic had embedded itself in his skin, he was somehow thrown into the technology, body crushing the speaker and skewering him like a piece of meat. His body being slammed into the thing must have stopped the music, that's one way to stop listening to _'Caramelldansen'_. You couldn't exactly tell the color of the jacket they wore but you knew the unmoving form was Tim, his dark hair splayed on the bloody ground beneath him.

Further scanning the room, you saw someone sat on the couch, leaning forward. Their upper body and head lay on the coffee table, an oozing dent in the back of their head. A few feet away from the couch, you could see two legs, splayed and donning tights, a dark pool under them shifting from red to blue with the lights. You could see wooden stairs, leading into the large living room where the bodies lay. Body half on the stairs and half on the floor was an unknown person. Arms bent at impossible angles. A dark pool surrounded their face down form. In the flashing the liquid that you knew as blood looked almost black, reflecting the saturated colors off of its slowly coagulating surface. 

There was significantly less gore than at the cabin. Less bodily harm, they'd kept their promise to keep things quick. Though, you weren't expecting to see so many bodies in one room. Things must have gotten rocky, very rocky. Tim was laying supposedly passed out on a broken speaker for fucks sake. Who were these people? Actual crackheads?

You continued to scan the scene until a figure caught your eye. The large frame of a man in a loose fitting hoodie lay face down. You couldn't get a good angle on anything but the side of their body. All you knew for sure is that they were covered in blood and that it was Brian. There was only man that you knew was that large. It could have been someone else as the body was face down, but call it a gut instinct.

If Tim and Brian were down for the count, where the fuck was Toby? How many of them were left?

Either way, they were hurt. Badly enough to the point where they weren't fucking moving. There was more muffled shouts, you think it was a woman screaming, " _GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME, YOU UGLY SLUT!"_

_**B A N G !**_

You believed Brian to be on the ground, that wasn't his gun and it sure as fuck wasn't yours. All you knew was the worry consuming you for the boys, Tim and Brian must be in immeasurable pain. They got hurt all the time but they could feel it, they could feel every little thing done to them. You couldn't see Toby, judging from the sounds you'd just heard. You didn't think he was very well. You remembered the heavy weight in your hands.

_**B A N G !**_

You didn't think at all when you shot the bullet through the window. You wanted inside and you wanted inside now. The front door was a forgotten possibility. The glass burst into the room, dispersing every which way, littering the floor with sharp shapes that reflected the bright lights. You weren't wearing gloves, grabbing the sill of the freshly broken wasn't a very good idea. Gun still in one hand, you pulled yourself up into the window. The glass sinking painfully into your palms, but the sharp pain didn't wake you up from the haze that was your mind. You were aware of what you were doing but you weren't being the most careful about your actions. Disregarding your safety, haphazardly putting a leg through the window. The glass grazing your leg, shallowly cutting through your jeans and scratching needily at your flesh.

All that mattered was the boys safety. 

You needed to see that they were okay. You needed to know that all the targets were dead, they'd get punished if they weren't. 

The glass softly crunched under your feet as loud thumping sounded from the ceiling above. Being inside gave you a better view of your surroundings, the hooded figure on the floor had holes in his back of varying sizes. The gnarly holes gushed and bubbled blood, breath caught in your throat as you stumbled over. Glass scratching against the floor as you moved. 

You slid to your knees, the loud ' _thud'_ s from the upstairs only growing louder. The flashing light made it hard to distinguish color. The figures large frame was a dead give away but you wanted to be sure. If this was just some guy and not Brian, the situation wouldn't be as bleak. There was no way you could roll the body to its front. You snatched the hood and tore the fabric down. You weren't met with the sight of skin or hair, all you saw was the black fabric of Brian's mask. 

What happened to him? Who fucking shot Brian that many times?

You looked to the stairs, rising skittishly to your feet as the lights continued to obnoxiously flicker. You'd worry about it later. 

" _Come back I just wanna puh-play with you!"_ It was the same voice from that night, that muffled, playfully sadistic voice that delighted in you running away in terror. The pounding of feet on the floor grew ever closer. " _Come on! Puh-please! You're the last one luh-left and if I get you then I get the muh-most kills!"_ He sounded like he was talking about a video game but this was far from it. This was real life. 

_"SUCK MY DICK!"_ The woman screeched, a loud ' _thud'_ playing from the top of the stairs. You mindlessly began to approach the stairs, ignoring the corpse laying at the foot of the stairs, your focus was getting to Toby.

_**B A N G !**_

_"Hey!"_ Toby whined out, a series of quick ' _thump'_ s entered your ears. _"Ooh! Nice shot!"_ He giggled. At his words the gun grew heavier in your sweaty palms. You got the situation she was in but she shot him. What if she hurt the others? 

Your legs no longer shook, your throat no longer felt constricted with anxiety. You knew the boys would be okay but you didn't take to kindly to those who had taken you in getting hurt. The only people you had left. Sure, they fucking sucked. They ruined your goddamn life for fucks sake! But they were all you had in your shit show of a life. They had to do the horrible things that they'd done, and you weren't going to let anyone hurt them.

" _DIE!"_

_**B A N G !**_

**_Thud, thud, thud, thud._**

A blur of a body tumbled down the stairs, limbs failing about uselessly. Each impact with the stairs was loud, the force sending rattles through the house. You knew it was Toby when the red light warmly accentuated his circular goggles. The second you recognized him, his head took the brunt of the force on one of the last stairs.

**_Snap!_**

His body rolled down the corpse that had lay at the bottom of the stairs. As his body continued to roll with the force, you saw his head hanging limply at an unhealthy angle. He stopped moving once his body flopped off of the corpse, laying on his back in the pool of blood, limps splayed every which way. Though he was laying on his back, you couldn't see his face. It was turned unnaturally into the floor. He wasn't moving.

You stared at his body, the gun didn't feel heavy in your hands anymore. It wasn't something that was a horrible reminder of a possibility you had hoped wouldn't come to pass. Now it was a tool to finish the job. 

Shaky breathing, soft ' _thump'_ s from the stairs, a choked, _"It's over."_

It was just you and her, her voice carrying softly down the stairs. 

Her silhouette sauntered down the stairs, heaving, the hand that clutched the stairs banister loosely held a pistol. You weren't surprised in the slighted. You were in the southern United States after all. Maybe she was ready for this. But if she really was smart, she wouldn't have come to a fucking house party. Or maybe the situation was out of her hands and she had to be here. To be the last one alive, everyone you'd talked to hours before a corpse.

She thought she was in the clear because she incapacitated the boys. She thought she was the final girl. Thing is about final girls, is that they live, they get out in the end after killing the killer or killers. Yet here you were. Looking into the shallow mirror of who you once were, a target, the last woman standing. Shaking and crying, yet resourceful enough to take the boys down, still willing to fight. 

To take your companions down.

It took a few stairs for her to notice you standing near the bottom of the stairs. Toby's body limp and unmoving at your feet, you don't remember when you pointed the gun at her, it was suddenly there, your hands surprisingly steady. Closing one eye, vision impaired by the flashing light and the masks warped eye holes. You could hardly make out any of her features other than her built silhouette. You didn't know her name. You didn't know why The Operator wanted her dead. You didn't know her but you wanted her to die. 

You'd have to do something horrible too. You had to do it to keep them safe. They weren't exactly safe at the moment, if they were regular people they'd be dead. Targets fighting back wasn't what you were worried about, you were worried about The Operator. That fucking thing would punish them for not killing nineteen people in one night. They were good but it had to know that it was asking a fucking lot of them. The woman before you still lived and breathed but if The Operator wanted her dead, she was as good as dead already. She didn't fucking matter. She'd have no impact on your life, she wouldn't comfort you in your misery, she wouldn't ever understand.

The second she saw you, her grip of the gun tightened. Stopping her descent, arm quickly shifting to point the gun at you. " _There's another one of you as-"_

**_B A N G !_ **

The silhouette of her head snapped back as the lights switched to red. Chunks of flesh and bone flew through the back of her now open skull, splattering harshly onto the stairs behind her. Her back slammed into the stairs, legs no longer supporting her body, crumpling like paper beneath her. Her hand had fallen limp, letting her gun go with a soft clatter as her body slowly slid down the stairs. Leaving a trail of black. You could make out sinking hole in her forehead, skin and bone caved into her cranium. 

You lowered the smoking gun, "It's over." You felt like you'd been holding your breath the entire time, heart thudding in your chest.

She was dead. You were so relieved, and that was it.

Your eyes widened, a sharp pain in your gut had you doubling over, a hand flying to your stomach. The other shoved the mask into your hair as you opened your mouth and let out a violent stream of vomit. The vomit landed onto the floor with a disgusting wet slap, colored blue by the strobe light. It spread across the floor, mixing with the blood of the corpse as your eyes watered. The stream slowly lessened as the sharp pain in your stomach died down. You heaved and coughed up a few more chunks of digested food before wobbling, standing as straight as you could. Your mouth burned, there was no after taste. You were grateful for that.

You were sick of yourself. What the fuck was wrong with you? How could you be relieved that it's over? You didn't feel bad for the woman you just murdered. You knew she had to die for the sake of the boys and you took her life without a second thought. There was traces of anger in your system at the woman for hurting the men you'd come to care for. There was no sadistic satisfaction there. You knew she had to die but you didn't want to feel surprisingly, disgustingly okay with her death.

Something was horribly wrong with you. It was all The Operators fault. Is this what **he** did to the boys? Is this what if felt like to loose your fucking marbles? You wanted no part of this. You weren't okay with this. You didn't want to be complacent anymore. You wanted to get out of here. If you wanted to leave, you could. All the boys were out cold. You could walk away right now. You had nowhere to go. The Operator would bring you back anyway. The thing is, you didn't want to leave the boys, your boys. You wanted to leave The Operators grasp with them.

**** _The boys._

They were all fucked up.

Toby was at your feet, head twisted into the bloody floor. He couldn't feel it. Tim and Brian could and those two looked like shit. You'd get to Toby in a bit. That didn't mean you cared for him less than the others at all, you just knew if he was still conscious he'd be mildly uncomfortable at worst.

You threw your body into action, flicking the guns safety on and shoving the gun in your front pants pocket. If it accidentally went off you'd be so fucking mad but not surprised. You walked around the couch, passing the body slumped on it and the coffee table without much of a second thought. It was disgusting how okay you were seeing a dead body. It was distressing but your empathy was saved for the boys. They were all that mattered to you.

You knelt down by Tim's head, slumped down toward the floor. His torso had smashed through the stereo, the metal and plastic caving in around his body. You could see sharp bits of the broken machine piercing into his clothes. Dark pools spread through the fabric of his jacket. It was subtle but his back rose and fell ever so slightly. You wondered the kind of damage the stereo had truly done. You couldn't exactly see his stomach. 

You placed a had on his back, warm blood from the rips in his clothes seeping into your skin. You felt him tense under you, a strangled growl leaving his throat, he tried to lift his head before it felt to the ground weakly, wetly splashing in the spreading puddle of his blood.

"Tim, it's just me. It's okay." You raspily spoke, the vomit rubbed your vocal cords momentarily raw. You delivered the words softly, like you were consoling a crying friend. Not the leader of your little murder posse, "I'm going to move you so you're not on the speaker."

He grunted weakly, and you took it as a sign to start. You gripped his waist, wrapping your arms around his limp body and trying to lift him as delicately as you could. You felt resistance as the shards of the stereo wetly pulled out of his body, a heart piercing whimper leaving the man as you freed him. You held his body against you, and tried to lower him carefully to the floor, flipping him slowly so you could see his eyes screwed shut behind the mask shifting from red and blue beneath the lights. His back thumped to the floor, a sickly grunt leaving his lungs invoulntarily. You moved your hands to his head, fingers running through his sticky with blood hair as you placed his head gently on the floor, settling right next to him. 

You gently touched Tim's chin and there was a grunt from this throat, faint. Your other hand gently lifted his mask up and away from his face. You slowly lowered it to the floor beside his head, you knew how annoying it was to breathe in the mask. He was already in enough discomfort, you'd do what you could to lessen it. There was another grunt, one of his arms lifting weakly and gripping the wrist of the hand that held his mask, his head slightly lifting from the floor. 

His eyelid slowly peeled open, looking at you with a half-lidded gaze, dark eyes delirious and unfocused as he began to recognize you. He slowly blinked, letting go of your hand. It fell loosely to his chest, covering a hole where he had been impaled by the metal and plastic of the machine. Your newly freed hand pushed his dark hair from his forehead. The action was gentle, your fingers hardly touching his sweaty skin. You were afraid if you touched him anymore than you already were, he'd break. It was a silly thought, you set his face on fire and he was fine. It was more of an emotional thing, he didn't need a harsh touch, he needed one gentle and loving. You knew from experience, soft touch made you feel more grounded.

"(Y/n)." He raspily grunted out.

"Yea?" You leaned forward, brows knitted in concern. Hand still in his hair.

"I told you not to come inside, dumb ass." He didn't have the energy to speak with any real weight, the statement a harsh pained whisper pushed through his gritted teeth. 

You couldn't take his insult seriously, you'd just saved their asses after all, "Sorry but you looked like you needed the help, leader man." You were being earnest but you couldn't help but softly tease the man. 

He slowly blinked, head growing heavier in your hands. He wouldn't support his neck much longer, he was probably going to black out any second now. You were surprised you even caught him in a period of momentary consciousness, you were glad that you did though. You got to see him, got to be weakly scolded by him. You knew he'd chew you out later, you smiled at the thought. 

"Whatever." He grumbled, "I'm gunna fuckin'," His eyes lazily fell closed, you slowly began to lower his head, "Pass out now."

You stared at his face for a moment. A small grimace of pain across his features, discomfort. You hopped to your feet, walking to the couch. Overlooking the dead body, you grabbed a warm and damp pillow. Padding back over to him, you once again lifted his head, placing the pillow gently beneath him. It was the least you could do.

Brian was next. You spun on your heels, power walking to the man as the lights switched from blue to red and red to blue. You didn't know where the flashing was originating from but it was fucking annoying. 

You knelt beside the large man's shoulders. There must have been five to seven holes in his back. You could see the slick blood shining in the changing light. Deep pulsating cavities that you didn't care to look too deeply into. 

You gently put a hand on his shoulder, "Brian?"

There was a small electronic rasp that sounded from his body. It shook beneath your fingers, he was in shock most likely. You guessed no matter how many times you got shot, that shit always fucked you up, sending your brain into an uncontrollable panic.

"Are you good?" You knew he wasn't in the slightest but you asked as a formality, not knowing how to help the man. 

A gloved hand slowly ghosted across the floor. It was shaking intensely, to still move while having so many holes in his body took mad grit. He dragged his blooded hand in a small line next to his head, slowly lifting it then making another. He then dragged his gloved hand below the two inconsistent lines of blood. An upward curve was drawn, a smiley face. 

"That's literally so fucking dumb, Brian." You couldn't help but give him a soft laugh, lightly squeezing his shoulder.

There was a wet gurgling, you believed it to be a laugh, pushed up from his blood filled lungs. His voice changer shifted the weak laugh into a growl. 

His hand shakily turned, closing into a loose fist, giving you a thumbs up before it fell limply to the ground. He was out as well. You stared at his bloody body a moment, he was trying to stay lighthearted even when he was filled with holes. He knew you weren't used to this kind of thing, surrounded by the dead bodies of strangers. You felt mostly numb to their deaths but his gesture made you smile softly. 

You gave him one last squeeze on the shoulder, quickly retrieving him a bloody pillow as well. Sliding it under his face. You lifted the mask up to his nose. He didn't seem keen on the the flashing lights but breathing a little easier might be nice for him. You took notice of his bloodied lips, the liquid trickling form his open mouth and onto the pillow. Poor guy.

Toby hadn't moved since the fall. Not a single twitch. The boy who always seemed to be moving was still. You rushed to his side, sitting in the coagulating pool of blood beside his body. Your vomit was a few feet away, looking like a pitiful puddle compared to the lake of blood surrounding the boy. The metallic and familiar scent completely overpowered the scent of stomach acid.

You cringed, gently taking Toby's twisted head in your hands, bloodied from touching Tim and Brian, as well as the shallow cuts from the glass on your palms. One hand slid under his head, coming into contact with the cold face mask he wore over his mouth. The other placed itself on the side of his head, tangling your fingers in his hair. You wanted to see his face, see if he was okay, there was only one way to do that. You braced yourself, gritting your teeth before jerking his head back into place. 

**_Crack!_**

It wasn't like the horrible ' _snap_ ' of his neck breaking on the stairs but it still made you wince, feeling the cartilage in his neck slipping and snapping back into place. Thinking of him getting hurt like that again was overwhelming. 

His head was back in place but you had a feeling his spine would need a few hours to heal, you were glad he couldn't feel the sensory hell that would surely be plaguing him if he could feel pain. He'd be completely immobile for hours. His googles where covered in a thick layer of blood, you couldn't see if he was awake or not. You hoped he was out cold, if he was awake then he'd be awake and unable to move. That didn't seem like a good time, his brain attempting to move but being met with nothing, no reaction. 

His button nose and face mask were coated in blood as well. Unlike the last time you saw him bloodied, you didn't immediately fear for your life. You weren't going to think about running, you were going to stay right here and check on him.

Your hands glided around his goggles, gingerly lifting them from his face and pushing them into his matted hair. His eyes were open, they slowly moved in their sockets to meet with yours. Empathy shot through you like the bullet you put through that woman's head. Her body lay on top of the other strangers body. You didn't give a shit about them though, you cared about Toby.

"Hey Tobes." You croaked at the currently paralyzed boy, a weak smile playing on your lips. 

He only let out a soft sigh. You supposed breaking your neck would leave you as a loss for words. He'd been laying here, conscious and very aware of his surroundings, unable to do anything. You wondered if his body would even let him pass out, he couldn't feel it. For now though, he was wide awake. Poor thing.

You took the edges of his face mask, pulling it down onto his neck. The mask gently dragged across his skin, leaving a light trail of blood down his once clean lower face. His mouth was slightly agape, lips smeared with blood. He let out soft gasp, words dying in his throat. 

You shushed him, hands on either side of his face, feeling his rough stubble under your palms. A thumb softly rubbing his cheek, your bloodied hands smearing the dark substance across face. He wasn't a child who needed to be babied. He was a grown man with a broken neck, who'd yet to pass out and couldn't move. If you were him, you'd want someone to comfort you. "I'm here, I got you." 

You don't know how long it'd been. You just kept your hands on Toby's face, thumb gently gliding over his face. He hadn't passed out so you just kept on comforting the boy. You knew he wasn't one for silence so you just blabbered about anything that came to mind. You were fine with that, pushing away the fact that you'd added to your body count again. 

Toby kept his eyes glued to your face as his neck slowly healed. Listening intently, occasionally rasping out a breath, As time ticked by, he could push out a word or two by the time the sun had started to rise. He was getting better. You'd occasionally glance to your partners, they still lay on the floor. Out cold amongst the corpses. It was just you and Toby awake in the dawn.

"And then I told him to suck my left tit." You continued the story, doing your best to not look at the body of the woman you killed who lay so close by. You focused on Toby as his eyes darted around your face, focused on the story. 

Then he pushed himself up on his hands shakily. He rose, growing closer. Your hands stayed on his face, limply following his movements You blinked in confusion and concern, since when had be been able to move? 

"Oh shit, Toby don't move so fast your necks still probably fuc-"

Tonight you shot a woman in the head. Walked past dead bodied like it wasn't even shit. Had your complacency shaken, reigniting your desire to escape but this time with the boys. You'd been through a lot. You didn't think anything could genuinely catch you off guard.

Two arms wrapped around your back, pulling you toward the boy. He used you as a bit of leverage to pull himself up but also to wrap you in a tight hug. You threw your arms around him as well, leaning into the affectionate touch, holding his weight because you knew he couldn't support himself for long. He leaned heavily against you without a second thought. You had a shitty night, you needed this. 

You both stayed that way for the longest time, his head resting on your shoulder, shuddering breaths passing over the skin he buried his face in. Stubble brushing up against your neck, course hair brushing against the side of your face. You had a smile smile on your lips, he was here and he was okay because you made the right choice. The Operator wouldn't hurt any of them. The smile was somewhat hollow, your brain was fried at the murder you'd committed and finding your companions in such horrible states. You could only think about the comforting touch and somehow getting out of your stick situation under The Operators rule.

Toby slid back, arms coasting around your back before his hands traveled up to your face, his fingers were trembling, the effort it took to move his body must have been immense. He pulled his face from your shoulder, face coming before yours with eyes filled with adoration and wonder. 

He glanced at your lips as his face inched closer, his breath hot on your face. You blinked, not knowing how to respond. Then soft lips, moisturized by excessive use of cherry chapstick, placed themselves onto yours. They were warm, slightly slicked with blood, smearing it warmly on your own lips. You didn't move away to reject him but you didn't lean into the kiss, you let it happen, dazed by the sudden development. It wasn't bad by any means. It was an act of affection. You understood. It felt nice to have someone care so much about you that in the heat of the moment, you were kissed. You hadn't been kissed in such a long time, so tenderly but so awkwardly. Lips pressing a bit too hard into yours, inexperienced and sweet. 

He kept his hands on the sides of your face as he slowly pulled away. Eyelids batting open as you just stared at him dumbly, your face felt hot. He let out a huffy chuckle at your expression. A thumb grazed over your lips, wiping them free of blood. His hands snaked around your back once more, more sure, firm, and in control this time. He rested his head on you shoulder with a content sigh. You returned the hug, confused, a slight smile ghosting on your lips.

It reminded you of Jen's last moments. Her telling you she loved you before she died. It was an act in the heat of the moment that he probably meant nothing by, so overwhelmed by his situation and you being the only thing nearby he acted out. The boy just went through the horrible experience of being paralyzed for hours and you comforted him the entire time. Toby was a very affectionate and impulsive boy, he just wanted to show you some affection for your act of looking after him, to express himself in the easiest way he could when his throat was fucked up and he couldn't speak well. He couldn't have meant anything by it.

Right? Right!

When all the boys could eventually get up, they rummaged through the house for breakfast, as the sun was rising over the horizon. The first thing Brian did when he got up was find the source of the horrid blinking and turn it off. You think you thanked him for a solid five minutes as your eyes adjusted to the soft morning light. 

You sat yourself on the couch next to the slumped over body, a dent in their head. You just stared at the floor, processing what you'd done. How the night unfolded. Another body to your growing count.

Tim wouldn't shut the fuck up. You had pretty much tuned him out after ten minutes of him scolding you. About how you shouldn't have come inside, how he's in charge so you should listen to him, how stupid you were, how badly things could have gone for you. You'd completely forgotten about your mortality, that you couldn't get hurt like they could and survive. 

You explained yourself as Brian and Toby rummaged through the house like a pack of rats. Probably taking cash and the like from bodies. You told him how you kinda sorta forgot that you were mortal. You just cared about finishing the job, for them, so they wouldn't get hurt by the twig.

Tim went easier on you after that. He still moved the mask that sat atop your head, exposing your (h/c) locks. Giving you a harsh noogie and one final growl of, " Listen to me next time will ya?" 

He left your side with a slight limp when Toby yelled something about finding, "That sssh-shitty alcohol the old muh-man likes."

You had never seen a man so drunk off his ass before. Off of two Bud Lights. It was kinda pathetic but incredibly funny. Brian had knocked back a few shots of straight vodka and looked completely unaffected, offering you some to 'help with the pain' which you turned down, you'd have to deal with your emotional turmoil sober. The walk back was easier, you could see the forest now, the trees covered in early morning light, birds chirping softly around your party.

His partner was stumbling, leaning on the taller man's shoulder who guided him around holes and twisted roots. Insisting that he, 'wasn't fuckin' drunk'. Brian just let him babble on as the four of you hobbled through the woods, covered in blood, looking to hop into your mini-van and rest your tired bodies.

You shuffled behind the men, Toby chattering on about weed or something. Apparently it helped with his anxiety and hallucinations. You tuned out most of what he was saying, just happy to hear the boy excited again. He had trouble keeping up, his spine still fucked up from the fall.

Looking at the hobbling mess that was your partners you realized with a startling clarity: you had to get out of here. You had to worm your way out of consideration. You had to figure out if there was anyway to drag the boys out of this mess, to get them into a happy and healthy situation away from the eldritch twig. There wasn't a hope in hell for all of you and you knew it.

Having little to no chance of escaping with your boys wouldn't stop you from trying. It never did when you were alone. Now, you had companions, they made you feel stronger. Like you all had a shot at a normal life.


	31. 30 - Determination and Shit Talking Exes

You weren't awake the entirety of the long drive home. Killing someone who deeply reminded you of yourself was rattling. What was even worse was that when you pulled the trigger, bursting her head open and splattering her brains on the stairs, you didn't care about her. You didn't feel bad about it at all, you felt nothing but relief. You only felt bad because you didn't feel a shred of empathy for the woman you killed.

You had vague dreams. You couldn't remember the visuals but you could remember four distinct sounds looping over and over again. _Crunch, fwoosh, sshrrk, bang._

Toby shook you awake when you all got home. Grinning at you while you scowled and only wanted to sleep more, your limbs heavy and your head pounding distantly. You wanted to escape yourself for awhile longer, get away from the things you'd done. You'd come back to reality for them, your boys, but all you wanted to do for now was sleep. 

You sauntered inside past a violently vomiting Tim. You were too emotionally exhausted to pick a fight with him by calling him a lightweight. Toby kept on trying to talk to you when you got inside, but you couldn't bring yourself to focus on what he was saying. It wasn't that you were angry or upset with him, it was that you just killed someone and you were rejecting the person you've become. Yet no matter how much you hated yourself, you wouldn't kill yourself. You earned your life, earned your place among the boys, if you died now, then the corpses you'd built your life on would uselessly rot away. They each felt like a milestone, a turning point, every corpse had a purpose in your development as person. You couldn't let their sacrifice go to waste.

Brian had to usher Toby away from you. You only mildly aware that the boy wanted nothing more than to interact with you, to make sure that you were okay. You clearly weren't but he wanted to make things better. The only thing you needed right now was to pass out for twenty-seven hours. The second you reached the couch, which was practically your bed at this point, you passed out.

You were so fucking hungry.

Crusty eyes snapping open, stiff muscles reawakening, and a keen sense of how dry in the inside of your mouth was. You didn't remember grabbing a pillow to put under your head or pulling a thick blanket over yourself before passing out but apparently you had. You slowly sat up with a raspy groan, you felt like shit. 

"Good afternoon, sleeping beauty." Tim called out mockingly as you rubbed the sleep from your eyes.

You grumbled a response through a yawn, "Hungry." Lifting your hands from your eyes, stretching your arms above your head, joints popping with a sigh.

"There's soup on the table." You looked to Brian who sat at the very edge of the couch. One leg crossed over the other, the same thick book on cryptology in his hands, the edges lined with sticky notes of every color poking out. You had no idea how he understood that shit. 

Your head snapped to the coffee table beside you, low and behold, there was a bowl of a yellowish-orange soup, just waiting to be eaten. 

You lunged for the bowl, a hand wrapping around each side of it. Brian began to speak as you didn't bother grabbing the spoon that lay beside the bowl, "I made it a few hours ago so there's a good change it'll be cold. I can heat it up if you want- Oh."

You never thought that you'd be so hungry that you'd swallow whole chunks of unseen food without a problem. You were practically inhaling the soup, head knocked back, room temperature liquid and food pouring down your throat. You completely ignore the stray steams of liquid that spilled down your chin, splattering onto the singed flannel. 

"Watch it!" Tim barked as you feverishly chugged the meal. Cleanliness could eat your ass, you were hungry. 

It was gone faster than you expected. You took in a gasping inhale, slamming the bowl onto the coffee table. 

"My flannel! The fuck, (Y/n)?" Tim scolded as you leaned forward, taking in long breaths.

"Mine now." You don't know why he was getting so pissy over a shirt. It was already pretty fucked up, holes singed away in the fabric, crusty with blood, a little bit of soup wouldn't do shit to its already decayed state. Also, you had a limited range of clothing, you'd take any clothes you could get your hands on, you had already taken the hoodie Brian made you wear to Walmart, shoving it into your suitcase.

"What? No!" You looked to Tim, sat in his arm chair. Acoustic guitar resting on the side of the chair, you must have just missed him playing. "That's mine. I just lent it to you for the mission!" 

"Fuck you, mine." You insisted, shifting your body so you were sitting with your legs hanging off of the couch. 

"No!" Tim simply argued. 

"Yes!" You barked with a shit eating grin, your mind was hazy with the long sleep. You wondered how long you were out. 

"No!" Tim was smiling ever so slightly. He was trying to look mad but it wasn't very convincing. 

"Yes!" Arguing with him only made you smile wider, bothering him was always such a delight.

**_Slam!_**

Both of your heads swiveled to look to Brian. The book in his lap now shut, looking at both of you with semi-hidden amusement.

"Tim, (Y/n)." He could hide his feelings well, he could act like you both were annoying him if he wanted. Instead, he give you both the hint of him being entertained, smiling softly at your dysfunction. "Stop yelling, Toby is asleep." He said, having just slammed his book shut to get your attention. 

You were about to call him a hypocrite before Tim spoke, "She's getting my flannel dirty." He hissed, voice considerably hushed.

"It's her flannel now." Brian glanced at Tim, small smile growing at his most likely frustrated expression, "She doesn't have much to wear. Be a mature adult, Tim. You know how to share."

"Yeah baby." You gave Brian a toothy grin before turning to Tim, "Suck my dick." You shot your tongue out at the man.

The murder hadn't slipped your mind at all, it at the back of your mind even now, tormenting you. You just wanted to pretend like nothing happened. You knew that couldn't happen, you'd have to bring up The Operator. Ask them questions of escape, questions you knew would produce no answers. You wanted to try anyway. Just not yet, you wanted to be happy for a little while.

In the moments of killing the woman, walking around the corpses, you felt like a shell of a person. Feeling completely alone in a room full of dead bodies and your incapacitated partners. Seeing them moving, bantering, smiling. It made you feel like a person again, humane and whole. You never wanted to see them hurt like that ever again.

Tim shifted in his armchair, leaning forward, a subtle threat that he just might get up and kick your ass. He didn't come after you though, he stayed in his seat looking mildly offended at Brian for siding with you. He was the leader, but Brian might get pissy if he disagreed with the man on such petty things. Tim blinked, staring at you, it wasn't the creepy and predatory gaze you were used to him. It was strangely analytical, you could practically hear the gears in his head turning.

His mouth turned into an 'o' as he realized he had something stupid and rude to say, something to bug you about that wouldn't bother Brian.

"(Y/n), you're cold-" Tim began with a smug smile.

"I'm more like room temperature but okay." You blinked dumbly at him, he looked at you like you just shit your pants. "Oh. Are you calling me ugly or something? Cuz' colds the opposite of hot and being hot means you're attractive." You droned on in a moment of pure word vomit. 

Tim blinked at you, mouth slightly ajar, "Holy fuckin' shit, I wasn't done talking, idiot."

He spoke in exasperation, your stupidity momentarily shielding you from whatever insult he was about to deliver. You realized that's not what he was trying to say as one of the stupidest men you've ever met just stared at you in wonder. 

"That's honestly amazing." Brian couldn't help but hold back a small chuckle. You looked to Brian, his smile wide and eyes full of adoration at your general stupidity. You were embarrassed but him being so comfortable around you, dropping his act of mild to no emotion in front of you, it meant something. 

It only egged you on, "What do you mean Brian?" You tilted your head, chest full of the warm and fuzzies, "Did I says something dumb?" You knew you did but you wanted to keep the act up for awhile longer. You wanted to see him smile awhile longer.

With a wheezy laugh, pink dusting his cheeks, Brian reopened his book, wistfully sighing. 

"You are the dumbest person on the planet (Y/n)." Tim's comment had you looking away from Brian's face. Before you could retort, he continued, "Giving Toby the cold shoulder after he kissed you?" That's what he meant. "He stayed up for _hours_ waitin' for you to get up ya'know? Cold of ya to keep a guy waiting like that."

You didn't exactly know how long you were out but from the context clues, it was a long ass time. Toby supposedly staying by your unconscious body, wanting to be there when you woke up. The boy was always full of energy, it must have taken some time or serious coaxing from Brian to get him to go to bed.

You should be surprised that Toby blabbered to him and Brian about kissing you, but you weren't in the slightest. Toby liked to talk and he was excitable, he didn't seem the type to keep quiet about that sort of thing.

You shrugged, "Tired." The response was simple and earnest. You were too fucked up emotionally to acknowledge Toby's sudden advance. "Heat of the moment, he was just being affectionate because I helped him out, I get it." You didn't want to consider if the boy had genuine feelings for you, things were a bit muddled in your brain right now. There was too much haze, confusion, regret, and new found comfort, to really sort your shit out. You had no idea how you felt about him, about any of them. You just went with the first idea that came to mind. Adamantly denying all others. 

"God." Tim sighed, looking genuinely surprised at you.

"Why?" You began, brushing off your confusion at another chance to tease Tim, "You jealous you didn't get to kiss the motherfucker who vomited her guts out a few minutes before?" 

Tim huffed, annoyance continuing to settle in his strong features. Before he could open hid big mouth to retort, Brian spoke, still engrossed in the confusing texts, "We don't get jealous. We share everything." He stated the words simply, flipping a page.

"Oh! Polyamory!" You jokingly realized aloud, "You're not jealous. You just want in on _all of this_ too." You gestured to your body suggestively, covered in ragged and bloody clothing, hair a matted mess.

"Brain!" Tim screeched, cheeks reddening, "Don't encourage her!" 

"Shh," Brian hushed the yelling man, not looking up from his book, "Toby's sleeping." 

With a huff and lips pointed in an obnoxious frown, Tim hissed, pointing a thick finger at you, "I am _not_ into your dumb ass, (Y/n). You're not pretty, you look like," He paused, trying to think of an insult, "Like," He repeated the word, still thinking, looking you up and down slowly, "Uh."

"At a loss for words at my beauty, huh?" You placed a hand on either hip, posing and batting your lashes.

"Whatever. You smell." He crossed his arms over his chest, with an exaggerated sigh. That was true, you were in the same clothes from the mission. You passed out before showering, you did smell.

You chuckled, letting the subject drop with warm cheeks. You could keep poking the bear, but then Tim may actually get pissy and leave. You liked being around him, even if he was annoying and loud. You were enjoying the lighthearted atmosphere but the last nights events continued to weigh heavy on your mind. You needed to ask questions about The Operator. Learn more, try to think of a way to get out with them. The pit in your gut was heavy, you didn't exactly know how to start a conversation about the eldritch fuck that ruined all of your lives without ruining the nice atmosphere in the room.

You had to start somewhere. You broke the momentary silence with a question, "So how are y'all?" Your question wreaked of wanting something, voice hiking up an octave and your words delivered too sweet, saccharine and fake.

Tim looked to you with tight lips, he instantly caught on. You were never that softly spoken in normal conversation, "What do you want?" Was this Tim or a mother with a strong bullshit detector?

Your mouth hung ajar a moment, your attempt to smoothly transition the conversation in the direction of the twig had been completely derailed. Instead, you'd have to jump right into the topic.

You took in a sharp inhale, preparing for a rough conversation.

"Is there anyway we can get away from **him**?" You pushed aside the desire to beat around the bush. The second the words left your lips, the lighthearted atmosphere dropped. Tim's face changed from joking suspicion to completely unreadable. An unreadable Tim was scary, a mask seeming to cover his features. He was always very reactionary, easy to set off, but now he looked completely still. Wide eyes drilling into your soul. He was afraid. 

" _No."_ The answer was short, simple, serious, but not good enough.

"What do you mean ' _no'?"_ You knew it meant there was no escape, obviously. His lack of elaboration was unsatisfying, leaving you hungry for more information. The Operator ruined your life, you think that you deserve more information on it then that. More then a confirmation that escape was not likely. 

"Are you seriously that stupid?" There was the bite you were used to, the insults. He sounded like he had a stick up his ass, stone faced and fists balled in his lap.

If you were stupid, you'd drop the subject, be subservient to your situation and not want to look deeper into things. You may have done some foolish things in the past but you weren't stupid.

"What makes you say no?" You leaned forward in your seat, sitting tall. You'd brush off the question, try not to lead the situation into a shouting match, "Why are so convinced that we can't get away?" You were tempted to say 'I', to imply that you wanted to leave them in the dust, but you didn't.

If you were getting away from The Operator it would be with them. You would all still understand each other, helped each other cope with the horrible trauma. You needed them. The thing is, they didn't need you, they had each other. You were a welcome addition but you were new, you could still die. They liked you a lot but you weren't a complete part of their found family yet, you'd only been with them a little over a week. They wouldn't want to throw what they had away. Your relationships were still developing, as quickly and pleasantly as they were, they were still new and fragile. Rocking the boat by bringing up The Operator may not be the best idea for your relationships with them. Yet you had to, you'd risk damaging your relationships with them for the time being if it meant getting useful information to help them in the future. You'd do anything if it meant down the line that you could all be together. Happy and free.

They were completely bound to The Operator while you were yet to be deemed a proxy. That didn't mean you could just walk away but it made you feel like you had some freedom that they didn't. You could try to walk but you'd just be brought back and if they wouldn't walk away with you, free of The Operators influence, then there was no point.

"I told you before, **he's** been around my entire life. Don't you think I've already tried everything?" His voice began to steadily rise, he was shifting back into the person that you knew. You wondered if the anger was who he really was. If he just wore an abrasive mask over his true feelings. At some point the line became blurred and he gave into the anger. Yet there was still someone buried beneath his intentionally rough exterior. Whoever that person was, he was scared.

"Everything?" You echoed, disbelief evident in your tone. There was no way he tried every possible angle. There were always loop holes, ways out, some means of escape. There had to be.

"Every-fuckin'-thing." He pronounced every syllable with exaggerated care, his eyebrows painfully knit together.

It irked you. His words implied that he was complacent, he tried what he deemed was 'everything', then gave up. "So you're just done trying to get out now, is that it?"

You intended to keep the conversation steady, to keep things from devolving. The idea of him giving up, being willing to rot away with his partners under its rein, it was pathetic, out of character, unlike Tim. It made you mad. 

His nostrils flared, you'd hit a sore spot that was more like an open wound.

"Do you think I want to be here?" He didn't wait for your answer, "No! I want to be normal just as bad as you do," He lowly growled out his words, the normal rage you were used to shifting once more into something icey, "I still fight it ya'know. Toby, Brian, they fuckin' can't. So I do." You'd completely forgotten the morning when you saw The Operator, blank face above yours. Tim shakily standing up to challenge it, it taking Tim. None of the boys talking about what happened to him. "Let me get one thing clear, no matter what you do. No matter where you run or hide. **He** _will_ find you. No matter how much better you think you've gotten," You opened your mouth to suggest something, anything, but he didn't let you, "I know the kind of horrible shit **he** is capable of. You don't. For once in your fuckin' life, listen to me; there is no escape." Hearing the words from your 'fearless' leader cut through you. _"You can't run, can't hide, but you can fight it. You can stand up in it's presence, maybe scream but that's it. Show it that your willing to try its patience even when you know what it can do. There's nothing more you can do it."_

Every word only cut deeper and deeper. Only drilled into your thick skull that you were totally fucked. Your fingernails dug into your palms, embedding themselves into flesh and fabric. You didn't take much notice until now of the thin brown bandages wrapped around your palms, Brian had patched you up once more. You didn't doubt Tim's word but you were stubborn and thick skulled. As his words continued to hang in the air, both of you staring one another down, your thoughts spilled past your lips.

 _"I'm going to get us out of here."_ There was no escape and you knew it. Your words held a determined conviction despite that. You weren't one to back down from impossible challenges. Though you knew it was fruitless, you'd try in earnest. 

Tim blinked, lips pulled into a tight line, "Good luck with that." His words weren't laced with sarcasm or anger. It was a flat, dull statement. The one of someone more experienced in hopelessness and misery. It just further filled you with an intense spite for The Operator, you'd show that fucking twig. You'd get your boys out of here.

You both stared one another down for an unknown amount of time. The concept of time melted away when you were staring into the eyes of someone who was nearly dead inside, wondering what he had been through to leave him so broken, so hollow.

You couldn't fix these people or their problems. You could aid them at their low points but you'd never fundamentally change them as people. You didn't want to anyway, you liked who they were, you liked their flaws. Even if some of them were annoying like Brian being the quietest person on the planet, constantly sneaking up on you on accident. Tim had the shortest fuse you'd ever seen on a man, which was an honest feat. Most men were incredibly fragile but Tim sometimes took it to a whole new level. Toby had his mood swings but that was a part of who he was, it didn't make him a bad person. The whole murder gang thing was something you'd never really come to enjoy but you took everything else in stride. You accepted them all wholeheartedly. You wondered if they felt the same about you. Toby obviously had but, what about Tim, what about Brian?

It was hopeless but you wanted to know more about The Operator but more so, you wanted to know about them. You wanted to know what broke them, who they were before this.

"What happened to you?" You knew some of Tim's background but it was the bare minimum, but you wanted to know more. You wanted to further understand him, to know how hard he fought. 

Tim looked slightly taken aback by your sudden question. Not an insult, not something antagonistic, just a plain question. You wanted to know more about him, more about Brian, more about Toby. 

_"Alex happened."_ You completely forgot about Brian's presence in all the time you stared Tim down.

Thinking of escape and freedom.You broke your staring contest with Tim to look over to Brian, you were disappointed but not surprised to see him wearing his mask of apathy once more. He looked tense, so still that he looked like he wasn't even breathing. This was the second time you'd heard the name Alex. Tim knew him and so did Brian. All you knew was that Alex was dead and the two men sitting with you hated his guts.

"Who's Alex?" You were curious about them both. Though the question was pointed to Tim, you wouldn't object in the slightest to hearing details of Brian's past.

"A bad person who hurt a lot of people." A simple answer, ironic too considering it was coming from a sadistic murderer. Though, you'd really wish they'd stop being so vague. He didn't need to dump his life story onto you but goddamn, Brian kept the information you knew about him to the bare minimum. "He ruined everything." You don't know what the fuck Alex did but whoever the guy was, he must have done something awful to Brian to get someone so level headed and rational to hate him so.

There wasn't a beat of silence as Toby's soft snoring ripped through the room. Even through the walls of the house, his snoring was still obnoxiously loud, you could just imagine the drool pooling around his face. 

"Anyways." Tim's voice snapped out of the icey seriousness that it once held. It was to his casual tone, he wanted to steer the conversation away from the twig and onto more lighthearted things. You just weren't expecting him to spill idle gossip, "You're just mad that he broke up with you in high school because you didn't watch anime with him." 

Brian was serious about hating Alex, the man must have done something horrible. Yet here Tim was, chalking it up to be Brian upset over an ex, when even you could tell it was so much more than that. The comment was tactless, you wondered if Tim had completely failed to read the room or simply ignored Brian's clear distaste for the man. Either way, you sucked your lips into your mouth, trying not to laugh out for respect for Brian. You were aware of Tim and Brian's bond, they'd both joked about Tim killing Brian on occasion. They were clearly comfortable joking about the horrible shit they went through because they were as thick as thieves. You didn't know them very well yet, you didn't have room to laugh. He was sharing a tidbit of his past with you, you weren't going to laugh at Tim's claim and make him not want to tell your more details out of embarrassment. 

"I got over that a long time ago." Brian clicked his tongue, jaw uncleanching and shoulders relaxing. "He apologized when we were in college." You knew the two were in their mid-twenties but you didn't know when they became proxies. You wondered what they majored in, what they were like before all of this, how long they've been stuck here.

"He made promises he couldn't keep, then got with Amy instead of you. I always knew he was a little motherfucker from day one." Tim continued, your brows furrowing. You wanted to know of Brian's past but weren't expecting to learn about his shitty ex, who Tim claimed to have killed. You knew breakups could be bad but for fucks sake. Did Tim kill Alex over breaking Brian's heart? What the fuck?

"You hardly knew him." Brian tutted, they were being awfully casual about someone they hated so much. You coped with trauma with humor as well, you didn't really question it. 

"I hardly knew him yeah, but I knew he was fuckin' little bitch the day we met." Tim huffed out a laugh. You stayed quiet, absorbing the information on them.

"That was just because he was a film student." Brian shut his book, now engrossed with the conversation. "You're right though, he was a little bitch and a _coward_." From dryly jovial to a tinge of hate, you wondered once more what Alex did. Other than break Brian's heart, you supposed. 

"Okay mister ' _that's why I'm the star!'"_ Tim mimicked Brian's voice, speaking with much more enthusiasm than you'd ever heard from the man. "That movie script was the worst shit I've ever seen and I can't fuckin' believe you made me play along so you could get back with him."

Movie script? The star? Were these motherfuckers actors? Did they have I.M.D.B movies pages or something?

Brian hummed softly, "Looking back I was _a little_ too into him. It was bad but I wanted him to be happy. Even If I had to suffer through his horrible script," He placed a hand gently on his heart, "I'm a romantic."

Scoffing, Tim looked to you, seeing your obvious confusion. He pointed to the man on the opposite side of the couch, "He made me rehearse lines with him for _hours_ to impress Alex." He was directly involving you.

You blinked, he wanted you in on the fun but you didn't know their boundaries as people. Where and when to draw the line. Instead of ribbing Brian about his anime-loving film student, bastard of an ex, you asked Tim a question, "Haven't you ever done something you normally wouldn't do to impress anyone you like?"

"Never." Tim's response was immediate and suspiciously flat. "I've never liked anyone like that, ever."

"I literally saw you kiss Jay. You are _so_ full of shit." Brian called out his partner, dropping a name you didn't know. You had solidarity with the men over your situation, but knowing they experienced same-sex attraction as well felt nice to know, made you feel even closer to them. To naturally learn something about them in a casual manner was nice as well. They knew so many intimate details about your life, they didn't need to ask you about details. You just assumed they knew everything. If they did then they'd know all your best stories and all your worst moments. They'd gotten to know you from a distance and it kinda sucked to feel like nothing you'd share about yourself would ever surprise them. That was just in the case if they'd been watching you for every second of your entire life though, which you adamantly believed to be impossible. Still, the irrational thought stuck with you.

Tim opened his mouth to defend himself but Brian was relentless, "Jay leaked your medical records and you were _still_ into him. You have absolutely no room to talk." You dumbly blinked at the new information. Loving the drama but being very confused. Mostly at their taste in men.

" _You're the one who gave him my fuckin' medical records!"_ So Brian apparently got Tim's medical records leaked and Tim killed Brian. You wondered how they didn't hate each others guts. _"And_ you stole my pills!" Brian was shaping up to be a real rat, a romantic rat, but a rat nonetheless.

"I'm not the one who kissed a man who," Brian held up a finger for each offense, "Dragged you back to **him**. Leaked your medical documents _of his own free will._ Broke into your house and one time came to your house with a knife." You looked to Tim then to Brian, mouth agape and not knowing how to respond. Literally who would kiss someone who ruined their life like that? 

You blinked dumbly, letting your confusion out in the form of words, "What?"

Brian looked to you, putting his fingers down and resting his hands on his lap, "Tim has horrible taste."

"I can tell." You wheezed, sparing a glance at Tim who didn't look very happy about Brian's words.

"Okay, but Jay didn't kill anybody." Tim tutted, your mind was reeling at all the information, all the drama. "You have to admit that you're only attracted to stupid motherfuckers. Alex was dumb as fuck and ruined lives. _Your_ taste in way worse than mine." He pointed an accusatory finger at Brian as he spoke. 

"Hold up." You wanted to know more and also understand what the fuck they were talking about, "What did Alex do and how do your exes have to do with anything that's going on here?" You took notice of Brian stating that Jay somehow dragged The Operator back into Tim's life. The man had spoken of 'getting better' and 'doing fine' before but he didn't elaborate what 'doing fine' meant. 

"Alex killed Jay." Tim began, you looked at the man, he was speaking casually about it. He must have had years to mourn because you don't just talk about a dead ex like that without batting an eye. Maybe the years that passed wore down his memory. You knew from experience that whenever you talked about Jen you'd get emotional. "He also broke my leg and tried to kill me multiple times."

"So, you're just going to leave out the fact he tried to kill me too?" Brian interjected with a short laugh. 

"You're just gonna leave out that you stalked me and Jay for years?" Tim fired back, you were talking about Alex's crimes, not Brian's. You were intrigued nonetheless, raising your brows. "You stole my shit," Tim mimicked Brian's earlier behavior of raising a finger for every bad thing he listed off, "Stalked me, recorded me, tried to drive me and Jay apart."

"I helped you both out while you," Brian clicked his tongue, "Killed me." This was quickly devolving from you learning more about The Operator and how it worked to petty drama. Well, if you thought theft, stalking, breaking bones, and killing people was petty. 

"If you think being creepy and dramatic is helpful." Tim rolled his eyes. "You literally tried to kill Jay once!"

Brian scoffed, "Now that's just dramatic, I hit him with a wrench _one_ time, he was fine."

What their conversation told you was the longevity of their situation. The Operator was fucking with them _both_ for a long time. It brought other people into it, people they cared about. Now they were dead. You knew what that felt like. They'd gone through it too, worse than you had it seemed like. Brian's ex tried to kill him, Tim, and had succeeded in doing so to whoever Jay was. Tim had feelings for Jay and he died. You wondered if he still had feelings for Jay when he did, if he was fucked up like you were when it happened. You had mixed feelings about Jen but her death destroyed you. You could only imagine the kind of pain losing someone you truly loved was like. 

Brian apparently terrorizing but helping Tim was an odd development. You thought back to when he broke into your apartment, choking you out, just to give you a taser. It was so you thought you had a fighting chance, so he could have more fun killing you but it was still help. Brian spoke of Alex with clear hatred but when he talked of his relationship, it was warmer. Like it was before everything went to absolute shit.

"Hey (Y/n)." Tim's voice tore you from your thoughts, you flicked your eyes to meet his. You don't know how long you were wondering about their pasts, their experiences with the horrid twig. "While we're on the subject of exes," So they'd circled back around to that, "And we're talkin' so much about ourselves. How 'bout you tell us about one of yours?" His delivery made it seem like he was just being polite but had a feeling he genuinely wanted to learn more about you. "How about," He mulled over his words for a second, "Your worst ex." It was relevant as they were talking about their exes who apparently committed murder and such. Like that was a common experience for people.

That told you that they didn't know every little detail about your life. You wondered how much they did know in the first place. 

"Jen." You flatly replied. "She was the only person I've ever loved," You began slowly, unsteadily, before your need to make light of the situation took over. "Then we crushed a guys head in with a fucking rock so that ended real quick."

"The only person you've ever loved?" Tim almost laughed at the depressingly mushy words. He didn't. Either it wasn't that funny to him or he didn't want to genuinely offend you.

"Yup," You popped the 'p', "Tried dating but never really fell in love. I'm over her but damn, kinda sucks that I'm stuck with you rat bastards forever and won't find love, but it is what it is." With a sigh, you spoke with a faux sense of content, too much for your awful circumstances. You really did mourn the fact that you'd never find romantic love. You wanted it so badly yet it was out of reach.

One thing you no longer mourned was the possibility of a good life with Jen. It didn't come to be and that was on Dan, on The Operator. You were here now and nothing would change that. It didn't change the fact that it was unfair, how someone else decided your fate for you. It sucked but now you had people around you who deeply understood your plight, you were nowhere near as close to them but it felt good to be understood. To relate to another's trauma was a bonding experience like no other. The only thing you actually cared about missing out on was love, that shit rocks.

"Wow. That's depressing." Tim said, having just admitted to some pretty depressing romantic circumstances himself, he wouldn't even admit he had feelings for this Jay.

You shrugged, "At least Goober loves me." 

"That's even more depressing, (Y/n)." Tim pointed out, you took note that the rumbling snores had stopped. 

You were the hottest mess in the room at the moment. Tim and Brian were fine, as fine as they could be considering their pasts. You killed a woman, discovering a surprising lack of empathy within yourself. You were becoming desensitized to killing people. You were becoming protective of the puppets who aided in ruining your life. The most tender kiss you'd received in years was given to you by a probably delirious, nineteen year old who killed your ex and you were just going to do your best to act like it didn't happen. Bury the desperate desire to feel loved in that kind of way, deep in the back of your brain. It was depressing.

"Not as depressing as you." You deflected with a playful huff. Having Tim shoot your idea of escape down so adamantly was disheartening. It was a learning experience though. Asking direct questions related to the twig upset them, yet it led to them revealing more about their pasts. If you could get them to grow more comfortable with you, tell you more about how The Operator worked in their lives. Then maybe you could think of something, anything, with the scraps of information their pasts would reveal. There had to be something you could use. You weren't like them. You hadn't thrown in the towel yet, you weren't a proxy yet. 

Scoffing, Tim pushed himself up from his arm chair, "You wanna say that again?" His tone only held an inkling of a warning, it was more of a playful challenge than anything. 

Tim could kick your ass and you both knew it. Did that stop you from standing up yourself, fists raised? Absolutely not. With a shit eating grin you responded, "That again."

Brian let out a huffy laugh at your retort, it wasn't even that funny but he seemed to enjoy it. 

Tim raised his brows, walking towards you. You stood your ground, raising your fists defensively. "You wanna catch these ha-" His hands were on your waist and your feet were off the ground the second you were within his reach, he lifted you like you were nothing. You had no time to struggle before you were lightly thrown onto the couch, landing on your back with an, "Oof!" Your head didn't hit the soft cushion of the couch like you expected. Your head landed on Brian's thigh, the man looking down at you with a smile. "Oh hey Brian." You looked up at the man, taking in his defined features, you momentarily forgot about the fact that Tim just threw you on the couch. Brian was that beautiful of a man.

"Oh hey (Y/n)." Brian mimicked, looking at something beside you for a moment with a small smile.

You weren't complaining at your head laying on the lap of another human being. Your touch starved ass reveled in the unexpected position. Though, it was still embarrassing to suddenly be so close to him, his lips pulled back in a lighthearted smile. You moved your hands in order to push yourself up. As much as you wanted to stay there, you had Tim's ass to beat.

Then a sudden weight was pressed onto your stomach and upper thighs. You could hardly breathe. With an exaggerated gulp of air, you looked to the man who had sat himself right on your midsection.

"Get off!" You choked the words out, all you had to defend yourself were your hands, pushing the man's solid shoulders like it would do anything.

All your words got you was more weight pressing into your body. You groaned, uselessly kicking your feet.

"Tim!" You beat your fists on his side, he didn't look bothered in the slightest. 

"Say you're sorry." Tim drawled, you felt like he was crushing your intestines. 

You could still draw breath from beneath his ass but each breath was labored, and you could feel Brian laughing above you. That kind of thing happens when a full grown man sits on you. You continued to beat your fists on him, "No!" Him sitting on you only made you not want to apologize but you did want to be free of the growing weight on your stomach. Then you remembered, you were laying on Brian's thigh. You looked up to the amused man, desperation filling your voice, "Brian! Help! I think I'm dying!" You weren't at all but Tim's weight on you certainly felt like death. 

He cocked his head at you, allowing himself to smile sweetly and genuinely at you. It was a wonderful sight, to see him let his walls down and actually smile at you. If you weren't already breathless he would have taken your breath away. Now was not the time for you to get entranced in his beautiful face, you needed his help.

"You won't kill her, will you Tim?" Brian looked to his friend. Dread filled your screaming body.

"Nope." Tim allowed more of his weight to press into your stomach, like he was lounging comfortably on a beach chair, not a human being. 

"Hm," Brian looked down to you, relaxed and content in your mild suffering, "No."

You groaned, clawing at Tim, "You dickheads!"

There was a quick series of ' _thud'_ s from an unseen source before Tim's weight was removed from you all at once with a shout. " _Oh fuck!"_

Your lung rejoiced as you quickly pushed yourself up, heaving. There was a pang of regret not staying on Brian's lap but honestly, you didn't want to come off as weird or needy. Ironic coming from a quadruple murderer, you were already plenty weird. 

Grunting and laughing alerted you to your savior. Tim was laughing, laying on his back in the middle of the living room. Toby straddling his chest, one fist plowing itself into Tim's face while Tim held off his other hand. The older man taunted Toby, who had him pinned to the floor, "That all you got?!"

You looked on with horror while Tim pushed himself up, headbutting Toby. They were both laughing like maniacs, which they were. "Not at ah-all, old muh-man!"

You forgot the agony in your stomach as you sat fully upright. Tim punching Toby in the throat while Toby drilled a fist into his gut. Tim threw the smaller man onto the carpet as he coughed and sputtered, letting out wheezy giggles. Your mouth hung open at the two men rolling about the floor, beating the ever loving shit out of each other. 

Snapping your head to Brian, who looked amused at the scene unfolding before him, you questioned, "What the fuck?"

Brian spared you a glance before he continued to watch the two men tussle on the floor, "This is a regular occurrence. They'll be fine." You'd momentarily forgotten about the fact that they could heal from anything.

Toby couldn't feel the pain of what Tim was doing to him. Which currently was bending his arm behind his back at an odd angle. They were play fighting. It was the most serious play fight you'd ever seen, Toby's nose gushing blood while Tim had a busted lip. Their movements were hard to follow, you had no idea when they got those hits in. You had no idea how Tim was laughing through all of the pain that Toby was inflicting upon him. He had nerves of steel, standing up to The Operator, and taking fists to the face like a champ.

"Doesn't this uh," You didn't know what to make of the sight before you, horrific yet joyful, "Bother you at all?"

"Not really." Of course this wouldn't phase Brian. He knew they wouldn't seriously injure one another and even if they did, they'd be fine.

One thing that seemed to mildly irritate him was the flashing lights at the house last night.

You were curious, "Hey Brian?" The man hummed in response, setting his cryptology book on the coffee table, he seemed to really like codes. You vaguely recalled the notes of code he slipped under your door. The fact that Tim read the note of binary he held up to your window. He must have taught Tim. There was no way Tim was smart enough on his own to learn to read binary on his own. 

Taking the hum as a cue to continue, you asked, "How come the strobe lights bothered you so much?" You looked to him, unable to watch the knock down, drag out fight playing out on the living room floor. 

"Watch the table guys!" Brian called out the men, you thought you heard muffled grunts of 'okay' from them both. "It's just a sensory experience I don't like." He stated simply, "I'm autistic, so some sensory experiences like that are unpleasant for me."

"Ah okay." You'd have to ask him later about some sensory things that bothered him. You wanted to build up your relationship, it'd do you good to know if there were things you should avoid doing. If you had a few hours to spare, which you wouldn't doubt you would, you'd ask him about cryptology as well. 

You glanced back at the men tussling on the floor, their smiles were wide and bloody. They seemed to be having the time of their lives. The house rattled with the hard impacts of them throwing one another onto the floor. God, they were terrifying but their cheeky laughter overtook the intimidation in your chest. It was gruesome but it was your boys, laughing and having a good time.

"That looks fun." You thought aloud.

"Do you want to try it?" Brian's suggestion had you looking at him with wide and terrified eyes. 

"No thanks." You stuttered, you wanted to keep all of your bones intact.

"I'll be gentle." He chirped with a crooked smirk. 

That got you going. You both knew how much stronger he was compared to you. Yet you were not to be taken lightly, goddamn it! If you were going to play fight with him, you wouldn't let him go easy on you. 

With a huff, casting aside all care for your health, you threw a weak punch at Brian's face. You were both sitting, a few inches apart. You couldn't exactly get a lot of momentum on your swing. He caught your fist, it didn't even get close to his face. He softly chuckled, a quick chill ran down your spine. It was easy to forget that he was the same cold blooded murderer that caught your fist that night on the truck. He broke your wrist after he did. He didn't squeeze your fist to keep it in place at all. He just gently held your fist with a smile. 

Throwing aside your moment of fear, you threw your other fist at him. Aimed for his head once more. He cocked his head to the side, eyes not leaving your face for a second, the fist missing him by a pathetic amount. You let out a grumble of frustration. You'd get him. You pulled your fists back, just to swing them both at him at once. He leaned back with a wide grin, you missed once more.

"Stop moving!" You shouted, leaning towards him, throwing another punch. He could have dodged it but instead he caught it once more. You threw another fist, he caught that one as well, "Stop dodging and blocking you baby! Fight me!" You playfully barked at him. His sweet smile turned into a devilish grin, instant regret.

For the second time, your back was slammed into the couch because you challenged a man much stronger than you. It was quick but much gentler than being thrown onto the couch. It was like being pushed down really fast, him using your fists in his hands as leverage. He didn't put his body weight on yours like Tim had. His body hovered over you, only your hands touching. 

You blinked dumbly, mouth agape at the sudden change of position. Brian's massive frame inches from yours, so easily eclipsing your body. His face inches from yours, his hot breath on your face, causing your heart to thunderously beat in your chest. You could make out the swirls of green and brown in his hazel eyes, the spark of delight behind them. Either at his easy win, your shock, or both, he chuckled, "Say uncle." 

You didn't expect a fully grown man to ask you to 'say uncle'. A childish way of throwing in the towel.

"No!" You laughed, it was a gentle display of strength but you weren't going to give up so easily.

You made a move to try to punch him once more but his hand held yours firmly in place. It reminded you of the truck, panic filling you veins. You knew you were fine, you trusted Brian to not hurt you. Yet, your heart pounding nervously from the proximity, began to thud in fear. You were friends now but the things he'd done to you in your past had not been forgotten. It was hard to push down the fear, the reminder of what he did, when you were nearly in the same position as you were that night, your body reacting instinctively.

Brian lifted himself from you, hands releasing yours. He quickly caught onto your panic and removed himself from the couch. He wanted you to feel comfortable. It was a sweet and caring act that slowed your thundering heart. Yet you were still a bit disappointed, you enjoyed yourself, throwing weak punches at him, even if he just dodged the entire time. 

"I'm fine Brian," You weren't fine, your breaths were short, your heart was thumping dangerously in your chest. But you wanted to keep playing, having fun with him.

"You don't have to push yourself." He stood from the couch, Tim and Toby's tussle was starting to wind down, the men growing tired. You weren't pushing yourself, you were having mindless fun with him. You didn't want it to stop. He turned, giving you the perfect opportunity, a sly grin spreading over your features, "I'm going to make some din-" 

You lunged at him, throwing your arms around his waist, pushing forward with all your might. He didn't move in the slightest.

" _Gotcha!"_ You were grateful that Brian understood when you were alarmed, knowing that he needed to back off. Your ulterior motive of getting to know him better so he'd spill the beans on The Operator was in mind. Yet, it was not the sole reason you attempted to tackle him. You were a touch starved motherfucker, high off the idea of having a good time. 

Your tackle ended up being more like a hug from behind. You rolled with it squeezing his waist as hard as you could with a grunt of effort. "I got you! Say uncle!"

Brian's chest rumbled at your actions, a chuckle erupting from the man. He could throw you across the room like a rag doll if he wanted to. Instead he wistfully sighed, placing his hand softly over yours, "Uncle."


	32. 31 - I'm Here For You

Pure panic was pumping through your veins, your hands shaking as you threw the blanket off of your body. You couldn't see anything, it was pitch black, not even moonlight penetrating the dim living room of the cabin. Well, there was no windows, made sense. Yet you could hear soft _'clink'_ s and ' _thud'_ s of a person. There was somebody in the house. Your house.

You peeled yourself up from the couch as quietly as possible, legs slowly swinging off the side of the cushions, they trembled with adrenaline. Fight or flight was kicking in and whoever the fuck broke into your house was about to get their ass beat. Your hands reached out, sweeping the coffee table, looking blindly for something, anything, to harm the intruder with. You'd been through hell and back, you were terrified but you weren't going to back down.

Your shaking fingertips found the smooth surface of a cool glass. Brian was adamant about setting one out for you the past few nights and it was becoming something of a ritual for you both. Thinking of Brian made you remember two things, how much you cared for the man, wished to protect him, and the home you shared. As well as the fact that, he broke in to your home multiple times. He was one of the reasons you were so afraid of things going bump in the night, of losing control of your situation. Despite that, you picked up cup, ready to defend the home of your murderous companions from whatever fool decided to break in.

You moved slowly across the living room, the sounds of shuffling growing louder. Your heart was thundering in your ears, for a moment you feared the sound would give you away, that you heart was pounding so hard that everyone could hear it. Unless the intruder had super hearing though, they wouldn't hear your approach. Unless they heard your soft footsteps on the carpet. You were holding your breath, afraid if you let the breath go that the intruder would hear you. 

Your feet came in contact with the wooden floor of the kitchen. The squealing ' _creek'_ from the old wood made you cringe. The sounds of movement ceased all at once, they were listening, waiting.

The soft ' _click'_ of the light switch from nearly right in front of you had you jumping out of your skin, they were right next to you. You hissed, light filling your eyes. You batted away the discomfort, you had to take care of the intruder.

"(Y/n)?" Tim's voice pulled you from your thoughts of ass kicking. 

You gasped, jumping back, Tim was right in front of you. Your heart rate skyrocketed for a moment at the surprise. You slapped a hand over your chest, heaving. 

"What the fuck are you doin'?" Tim questioned you, noticing your obvious alarm, a half full glass of water in your hands, ready to be thrown.

As you took in a few relieved breaths, you took in Tim's appearance. A strong five o'clock shadow framed his face, connecting to his thick side burns. His hair was unkempt, thrown every which way. Dark circles rimmed his eyes, he looked tired. Though you wouldn't say it aloud, feeding his massive ego, he was a good looking man, even when he looked like he was having a rough time. You hadn't somewhat jokingly called him daddy for nothing. You had better things to think about that weren't how annoyingly attractive he was though.

Of course it was one of the boys. Your tired mind had completely forgotten that they could leave their rooms at night to walk around. No one would break into a remote cabin in the woods. If they did, they'd probably be dead already. You were astounded by your lack of judgement and the fierce need to protect those who didn't need to be protected. However, stranger things have happened.

With a shaky sigh of relief, your tensed muscles relaxed, "I thought someone broke in." You weren't going to hide the fact that you were deeply traumatized. What they'd done to you at the cabin and while stalking you, had fucked you up. It definitely wasn't water under the bridge, but you wouldn't hold it too harshly against them. It did make you want to be more of a dickhead though. It's the most you could do without servery damaging your developing relationships with them, while also getting a little payback. 

Tim blinked at you a moment, brows knit together, an expression on his face that read, ' _are you fucking stupid?' "_ Uh," He stepped back from you, hand lowering from the light switch, "No." He deadpanned, seemingly too tired to be more on asshole, maybe understanding your panic brought on from trauma they caused. When he wasn't being a huge douche he was nice to be around. 

He turned, padding away from the entrance, his back to you. He pulled the half full coffee pitcher from beneath coffee maker, pouring himself a steaming mug. Your eyes flicked to the oven, which displayed the time. It was three twenty-seven in the morning, a little early to be awake.

You were curious as to why he was up at such an ungodly hour. While you made your way to the stools, sleepiness fading away, you inquired, "What're you doing up so late?" 

As you pulled out and sat on the stool you'd designated as yours during your stay, Tim responded, "Can't sleep." Another short response with a flat tone. He really must be exhausted to so normal sounding, no biting insults or teasing remarks.

You hummed, leaning on the counter and setting your glass down. You'd woken up a few times late in the night before. Sleeping on a couch in the murder bachelor pad wasn't the most comfortable sleeping experience. As you thought of a response to his dry comment a soft squeaking pierced the air. 

You turned your attention from Tim, who'd turned to you, sipping away at his coffee, to the doorway. You couldn't see the incoming person but you had two guesses. 

The strong scent hit you before the person entered, smelling faintly like they'd been sprayed by a skunk. Crinkling your nose at the familiar smell, you went to high school and college after all, you knew what weed smelled like.

Toby padded into the room, hair even more disheveled than Tim's, he looked like he had a curly porcupine on his head. His eye bags were nowhere near as deep or dark but you knew he also wasn't doing very well. Yesterday, he'd had a bad day. No particular reason, he just woke up from his slumber and was incredibly irritable all day. That's just how it is sometimes, you did your best not to take anything he said to heart. You knew he couldn't control it but that didn't mean it didn't get at least a little bit on your nerves when he started getting pissy with you. You held your tongue for the most part, not wanting to further upset him. 

"Hey Toby." You were going to try to be polite and pleasant, as much as you could be after nearly having a heart attack.

Maybe he was in a better mood, if he smelled that strongly of weed, he must be blazed out of his fucking mind. Tim didn't smoke in the house but Toby apparently did. You wondered if Tim or Brian got on him for that, it wasn't very considerate. Weed had a much stronger scent than cigarette smoke. Maybe they don't care and Tim prefers to smoke outside? You didn't know. He'd claimed it helped him out with his anxiety so you were hoping he'd be more pleasant to be around.

"What's going on?" You didn't need to ask why he was up.

He looked to you with a lazy half-lidded gaze, slightly slouching, "Not muh-much. Just sssmoh-smoking and going crazy in my room-om." You knew he wasn't joking, he delivered the statement plainly. You had to force back a smile at the statement, it was a little bit ridiculous and a very nineteen year old boy thing to say. 

"Interesting." You clicked your tongue, watching Toby shuffle over to you, rolling a shoulder back stiffly. As the boy pulled out the stool next to yours, sliding it next to yours so the wooden seats were touching, you idly observed, "All we need is Brian and then it'll be a party." Being in a kitchen around three in the morning with all your buddies brought back old memories. Stupid yet sweet memories, nostalgia soothing your receding nerves.

"Brian's working." Tim flatly informed, making his way to the stools as well. 

Toby sat himself beside you, pressing his side against you, and leaning the top of his head onto the side of yours. You hadn't acknowledged the kiss with him at all. He'd brought it up a few time but every time you brushed it off or told him that he was fine, you understood it was a heat of the moment, one time thing. He got quiet whenever you did so, but he'd never stay quiet for long. He'd bring up another subject, usually the subject was harassing Tim. A hobby you both very much enjoyed. Today his insults at Tim had gotten a little too personal for you though. You understood it was brought on by his mood swing, but you weren't going to endorse the behavior. You never thought in a million years that you'd not want to insult Tim, that you'd gently suggest for someone to lay off Tim. When you did, Tim was shocked and Toby got very huffy about it, storming off to his room. That was the last time you saw him. Now he wasn't barking insults at Tim and was cuddling up to you sweetly. 

You shifted your head to one side, Toby's head momentarily losing its rest. You quickly bumped your head into his, a softly playful act of affection and affirmation. The soft giggle you heard from Toby had you gently turning your head to get a good look at his face. You heard Tim pull out a stool for himself, sitting with a grunt. Toby was looking up to you with a smile. The close up view of the boy allowed you to see the redness of his sclera. The proximity only made the scent stronger, your nose was pretty much in his hair. His coarse locks tickling the side of your face.

"That's the first time I've seen you smile today." You softly observed. Despite this technically being the first time you'd seen him today, you assumed he'd been up all night. Assuming he hadn't slept to hit reset on his internal clock and perception of time.

"I don't have to ssuh-smile all the tuh-time, ya'know?" Toby lowly informed, annoyance in his tone, his soft grin quickly leaving his lips. Blitzed out of his mind or not, he was still in a bad mood. When he was in a bad mood, nearly everything you said pissed him off.

His smile was gone, mouth pulled into a frown. You kept your eye contact with him, wanting to affirm him as earnestly as possible.

"I know that." You did your best to keep the tinge of irritation you felt from your tone, "I just like to see you smile, Toby." It was true, his smile was warm and infectious. When it wasn't caused by blood lust and joyful sadism.

Toby only grunted in response. He was tired and grumpy, you got not wanting to chatter. Though you knew it wouldn't last long. Toby could never keep quiet for more than five minutes, he seemed to despise silence. Often fidgeting with his fingers obsessively whenever silence fell for more than thirty seconds. He needed near constant stimulation, you had a running theory of him having the worst case of attention deficit hyperactivity disorder on the planet, you were almost certain Brian had the same theory.

Turning your head slowly, as to not disturb Toby too much, you looked to Tim. He was downing his coffee, head thrown back and eyes closed, adam's apple bobbing slowly. You wondered how many cups of coffee he'd had, glancing at the half full pot of coffee on the counter. You wondered how long he was in the kitchen before you woke up.

"Drinking that much coffee's gotta bad for you." No longer tired and a man on either side of you, you wanted to pass the time with idle conversation. 

Getting on Tim about his unhealthy habits was a useless task. The man smoked like a chimney, you don't know if he had a huge stash of cigarettes or what, but the man always smelled heavily of fresh smoke. At first it was horrible, stomach churning. Now you'd gone nose blind to it, being around him so much had you used to the scent pretty quick. His lungs could heal all of the horrible damage he did to them and it was a vice for him, you understood why he did it. Yet it was still concerning. Growing up on so many anti-smoking commercials and school assemblies, drills that smoking will instantly fucking kill you into your brain. 

Tim cracked open an eye, humming before downing the last of his coffee. You wondered when the last time he slept was. It'd been two days since you all came back from the mission. Whenever he was in his room you'd hear idle guitar strumming, unless he could play guitar in his sleep, he wasn't getting any. Unless he was sleeping when you were, but you doubted that. From your current situation, him downing coffee at three in the morning, to him always being awake before and after you went to sleep, you didn't believe that he'd slept a wink. Did he always have so much trouble sleeping after missions?

"Hey old muh-man?" Toby croaked on your shoulder as Tim set his mug down. The man grunted in response, he wasn't feeling very talkative you supposed. "Can you get me sssuh-some too? I don't wanna to go to sssuh-sleep." The boy groaned out his request for coffee, "Keep having the druh-dreams again." 

"Dreams?" You let the word spill passed your lips without much thought. You'd fallen into the habit of softly prying about details for their lives. It was nice, getting to know them. 

Tim wordlessly stood, his stool groaning behind him. You glanced to Toby, his hands resting on the counter top. Flexing at odd angles and intertwining together. He didn't look at you, he just blankly stared at his hands.

"Sstuh-stabbing this guy," He began, you assumed he was telling you what the dreams entailed, "This woman sssh-she just," He paused, rolling his shoulders back, "Keeps sssce-screaming." You knew he was a violent murderer but the way he croaked out the words, so tiredly, so hollowly; it made you feel that the violence he was describing wasn't something particularly enjoyable for him. "There's this big," He gestured with his hands, spreading them apart across the counter top, "Fire and ssh-she won't stop scuh-screaming." 

You didn't know if he was referring to a reoccurring nightmare or some sort of repressed memory but either way, it had him in a bad place. You placed a hand atop his, not really knowing what to say. 

**_Thud!_**

You whipped around, pulling your head away from Toby's in your confusion. His head lifted itself from your shoulder as he looked at the source of the sound as well. When you saw Tim face down on the kitchen tile, you were tempted to laugh. You knew a little fall wouldn't hurt the guy. You didn't though because he wasn't moving, there wasn't a groan of irritation or discomfort or an angry grumble. Even if he was sluggish, you knew that he'd say something, anything. 

"Tim?" You pushed the stool back as you stood, sliding your hand off of Toby's. Tim's body was as stiff as a board, you couldn't see the rise and fall of his back as he breathed, all that did was cause you further panic. You could return to comforting the boy when you made sure Tim had just passed out from exhaustion.

There was no response. Then, his arms and legs started to quake. At first you thought he was just going to get up but his limbs made no move to push his body up from the tile. All they did was shake up and down rapidly. That's when the guttural grunting started.

"Tim?" Panic was starting to pump through your veins once more. You'd seen the man in worse states, states that should have killed him, and he was always fine. The thing is, knowing that he'd be fine in the end didn't take away your worry for him now. He was convulsing on the floor, you needed to do something to help him, now. 

"Old muh-man?" Toby's chair squealed as he stood up as well. Panic evident in his voice, shrill and almost begging Tim to respond, a much quieter version of the raw panic in his voice from the alleyway. 

You knelt down, trying to stay calm for Toby's sake. Tim's arms jerked, bending then becoming straight, his fingers spreading painfully and flexing at odd angles. His grunts increased in volume, pained gasps and guttural sighs.

"Hey, Tim?" You put your hands on his arm, it violently quaked beneath your touch as his right leg began to spasm. There was an inkling of an idea that the man was having a seizure. It could be true, but you were no nurse, you were an ex waitress and a murderer, this wasn't exactly your area of expertise. 

_"Tim?"_ Toby gasped out the older mans name, desperate fear in his tone, high pitched and almost childlike. You both knew that Tim would be fine in the end. His current state of vibrating on the kitchen floor was concerning, but he'd be okay. Just like in the alleyway when Tim was grievously injured, Toby began to panic. At the cabin Toby didn't seem to care when Tim got hurt. Then again, at the cabin Tim only got shot in the shoulder. He could still move, he still talk, he was fine. This and the fire were something else. Toby spoke of fire with a hollow dread and he panicked over Tim being in it. Tim on the floor and quaking seemed to reignite Toby's panic. Something was up but you had to worry about the seizing Tim before you could comfort the now whimpering teen.

You were tempted to leave the man face down, as you weren't very experienced with people shaking on floors. However, you gripped his tense and spasming arm anyway. Not to hold it still, but to use it as leverage to push the man onto his side. You needed to see his face, maybe then you could get him to respond. With a grunt of effort, using your weight to aid you in the action, you rolled Tim slowly to his side.

His front now facing you, you saw his eyes open but unfocused. His irises didn't shift to look at you, he didn't seem to notice you at all. His knees jerked up, momentarily curling into himself before they spasmed back down. He definitely wasn't present mentally at the moment, his walleyed gaze, grunting, and spasming told you some shit was going down. You needed to help. The only thing you really could do though was wait and maybe put a pillow under him. As his neck bent limply, head resting on the floor as he shook. 

You jumped to your feet, panicked but ready to spring into action. You darted out of the room, passing Toby who gripped the counter top to hold himself steady, looking mortified and pale at Tim's shaking form. You ran into the dark living room, painfully bumping your shin onto the coffee table as you scrambled for the couch. With a, _"Fucks sake!"_ You pushed back the urge to clutch your shin, pissing and moaning about the sudden pain. You didn't have time to think of yourself or your discomfort. You lunged for the couch blindly, hands sweeping the cushions until you found the pillow that you'd lay your head on every night.

With a pillow clutched in your hands, you made sure to avoid the table as you rushed back into the kitchen. Toby was loudly heaving, slowly sinking to the floor with wide eyes. Tim was still shaking. You'd get to Toby in a moment, Tim was possibly having a seizure. 

Sliding to your knees, you lifted Tim's head as gently as you possibly could from the cold floor. Your mountain of experience in trying to stay calm in shitty situations helping you out immensely. You were still terrified for Tim, wondering if he was in pain, wondering if he'd be okay. His neck quickly tensed, jerking his head back with an involuntary cry. You cringed at his pain, genuine empathy for the man filling you. 

You slid the pillow beneath his head as his neck uncleaned its muscles. You lowered his head with a soft prayer of, "Jesus fucking shit, please be okay." 

You wanted to keep an eye on the man, see the spasming to its end but Toby's sobs only grew in volume. Concern for the boy overtook your need to watch Tim. You believed that all you could do for the man was wait out his convulsions. You had Toby to worry about now.

Turning, you saw the boy sitting on the floor. Back pressed up against the counter that only minutes before you'd all been sitting at. His knees curled up into his torso, his head buried between his knees, hand clutching and tugging his hair, sobs that sounded like wheezy screams escaping him. His thin body shuddering with every cry. You waddled on your knees over to the wailing ball of a man, brows knit and raised in concern.

"Toby?" You gently called out during your approach.

Not acknowledging your presence at all, the boy continued to hyperventilate, hitching sobs between each breath. If there was one thing you knew, it was panic attacks. In the first two weeks of your return to your apartment you'd have a panic attack at the drop of a hat. You knew your way around them. You ceased your approach, pushing yourself to your feet. You needed a paper bag.

You rushed into action, spinning on your heel and ripping open cabinets. Unorganized cans met you in the first, the second held open boxes of cereal. You could pester them about their organizational skills later. You knew that they had medical supplied in the bathroom but paper bags didn't really apply to medical items. They could aid during panic attacks though.

During one of your first big panic attacks when you got home, you'd emailed your therapist, asking about some magic cure for the horrible episodes. There was none but there were things you could go about doing in order to make them less bad. He explained in very simple terms that a paper bag could do wonders to help calm you down. During panic attacks, people often hyperventilate and get too much air, over oxygenating your body. Basically, too much oxygen means you only feel worse, light headed and such, thus making you want to continue to hyperventilate. Which only furthers the problem. By breathing the same air, you breath in less oxygen and more carbon dioxide. Allowing you to slowly feel less like shit. 

Brian seemed to have his shit together. You knew of his medical knowledge and his care for his companions. You were banking on that to hopefully find some paper bags. Panic attacks were probably not so rare in this household, being a forced murder puppet does have a lot of downsides after all. 

It was the cabinet below the sink that you found an uneven pile of the closed bags. You snatched the topmost bag, forcing it open and rushing once more to Toby's side. In the minute or so of your search he began mumbling to himself. You had no fucking clue what he was saying. It wasn't because his words were incoherent, it was because you didn't speak whatever language he was speaking.

His voice had been thrown, it was cracking and weak, yet he sung in a pitch you'd never heard from him. _"Guoh-guten abend, gute nacht."_ It sounded like a off-key mimicry of a woman's voice. _"Mmm-mit rosen bel-bedacht."_ You'd never heard him sing before, only chatter away for hours. _"Mit nay-näglein beh-besteckt,"_ You knelt down, heart aching for the boy, " _Shul-schlupf unter die de-deck."_

You vaguely recalled that he had no memory before becoming a proxy. Tim and Brian didn't have sweet and high pitched voices, they didn't seem like the type to sing either. " _Morgen fru-früh, wenn Go-gott will."_ You wondered where he learned the song. He didn't seem the type to sit down and read, learning the song from text. Which would be difficult to get the articulation and tone from. He had to have learned it from somebody. _"Wirst du viie-wieder guh-geweckt."_ He may have memory loss but maybe it wasn't complete or maybe the song was from a repressed memory. _"Mmm-morgen fr-früh, wenn Gott vvi-will,"_ Your best guess was that he'd learned it from his mother or another parental figure, _"Vir-wirst du vee-wieder geweckt-echkt."_

"Toby." You called out, scooting towards the boy on your knees, trying to pull him out of the haze he was in. 

He continued his babbling song, breath hitching as you looked over your shoulder to Tim, " _Gooh-guten aah-abend, gute nnna-nacht."_ Much to your relief, Tim has ceased his violent quaking. He lay still, eyes shut. He was alive, unconscious, but alive. " _V-von englein be-bewacht, dii-die zeigen ii-im tuh-traum."_

You turned your attention back to Toby, one down, one to go. 

"Hey Tobes." Your voice softened as you sat on your knees before him. He didn't acknowledge your presence at all, continuing to stutter as he squealed out the song, _"Dir chhruh-christkindleins bah-baum, sssh-schlaf nur sssse-selig und sss-süß."_

You carefully reached out for him, one hand clutching the brown bag. Leaning forward, you snaked your arms around his back, pulling him into a firm hug. You could feel the shudder of his body as he hitched out, _"Sssh-schau im trah-traum's pa-paradies, sssh-schlaf nur sss-selig und sss-süß."_

You hugged him tighter, resting your chin on the top of your head. Rubbing his back and cooing, " _It's okay baby, I'm here_." It was a slip of the tongue. Whenever Goober would whine you'd call him baby, angel, honey, the like. It was just something that happened when you comforted the sweet pup. All it was, was a comforting nickname. You weren't going to let anything stop you from comforting Toby the best way you possibly could. 

Toby's voice began to lower into a breathy whisper, "S _ssh-schau im trah-traum's pa-paradies."_

_"I'm here hon. It's alright, you're okay."_ You rocked the boy gently back and forth, whispering reassurances into his hair. The hushed singing devolved into soft whimpers as you began to further comfort him. You supposed he needed sound, talking or singing, to make him feel alright. He needed to fill the space between his sobs with words. He hated silence. You were here now, he wouldn't have to sing. You'd help him as long as you needed to. 

You pulled away, hands sliding from his back to his shoulders.

"Hey." You cooed out in a whisper. He shook out he let out a shaky sob, not looking up. You needed something to really catch his attention. You shot another glance over your shoulder, Tim was still. He was okay, you think. "Tim's okay." You spoke in the most firm and grounded voice you possibly could. You needed to pull Toby from his thoughts, from his panic.

He still didn't look up. "Hey." You moved your hands from his shoulders, down to his face. It was a little awkward as most of his face was firmly pressed into his knees but you were able to find his stubbly jawline. "Toby baby, look at me." You gingerly lifted his head, he let you move him.

His curls shifted on his forehead as you tilted his face up to you. His already reddened eyes looked horribly bloodshot, shiny with tears. You adjusted your hands, one cupping his cheek, the other staying on his jaw as to not touch his exposed teeth. He looked up at you with wonder, fear, and desperation all at once and you felt your heart clutch with feelings for the boy.

"Tim's okay. You're alright. I'm here." You slowly spoke out every syllable with great care. He slowly blinked, muddled brain processing the information while he let out shaky breaths. 

You moved the hand on his jaw to hold out the bag to him. You then realized he was without a bandage and would need one over his gash for the method to work.

"Take this, I'll be right back." You held it out to him until his shaky hands removed themselves from his hair, slowly beginning to wrap around the moth of he bag. Once it was in his hands you smiled and began to push yourself to your feet. 

A hand shot out, grabbing your wrist with a weak grip. Toby stared up at you, mouth agape and letting out a choked mess of words, "Duh-do you puh-puh-promise?"

He was afraid you wouldn't come back. The look on his face was reminiscent of a kicked puppy, the poor thing. "I promise sweetheart." You couldn't help but drop the sickeningly sweet pet name. You felt the need to be a sweet and gentle as possible with him. "I'll be right back." 

Toby slowly released your wrist, hand caressing down yours as he pulled away, "Oh-okay."

Free of his grip, you bounded into the living room, flicking on the light as you did so. With the living room and hallway illuminated, you proceeded. You were standing in the bathroom before you knew it, ripping open the cabinets. Luckily for you, the search was short lived. The bandages sat right where the doors would close, an open grey and blue box. You tore one from the box and slammed the cabinet shut.

You bolted into the kitchen once more, Toby's head turned to the entrance. He was waiting for you, still hyperventilating, fat tears rolling down his cheek, his body trembling as he rocked himself for comfort. Some tears spilled into the gash as he looked to you. You were knelt beside him in an instant, tearing the bandage free from its wrapping, throwing it aside. You pressed the side lined with a sticky substance to his face, his wide eyes watching you intently. 

Looking to the bag bunched up in his hands, you could tell he'd done this sort of thing before. Two hands wrapped near the bags mouth, forming a makeshift handle, the rest of the bag looking like a balloon.

You gave him a quick yet firm hug, rubbing his back before you pulled away. As you did so, he leaned forward, following your body. He wanted you to stay and hold him.

"Focus on your breathing, okay, angel?" You were speaking like you were talking to a literal baby. Minus the changing your voice to sound silly and speaking every word with a 'w' somewhere in it, making you sound like a child. Bringing the bag up to his mouth, per your request, he continued to stare. "I'm going to check on Tim." You scooted away from the boy, giving him a soft smile. 

Turning your attention to Tim, you crawled over to the man who lie still on kitchen floor. "Tim?" You called out to the man, sitting yourself by his side. 

Finally, there was a response. It was in the form of a tired grunt. He was conscious once more. You didn't want to move his head like you had with Toby, unsure of how to proceed. You wouldn't move his body but you'd gently brush the hair out of his face, tucking the longer strands behind his ear. This earned you another sound, a slurred hum. 

Was Tim a full grown bear of a man, who could crush you skull with his hands? Yes. Did that stop you from calling him a sweet pet name out of a need to comfort him? No.

"Hey sweetheart," You said to the rudest motherfucker on the planet in the softest sweetest tone, "Are you awake?"

"Hhhhuuurnn." He let out what you think was supposed to be words, he sounded like he was drunk rather than recovering from a seizure. 

"I'll take that as a yes." You gently began to pet his hair, hoping the action would soothe the man. "I think you had a seizure." You plainly delivered the news, not knowing how else to proceed. You hoped he could further fill you in when he was more mentally present.

For now though, he let out a slurred, "Nnnooo shhhiiiit." Lips moving with the words, face twitching as he came to, eyelids fluttering as he tried to look at you. 

You continued to pet his hair, twirling the dark strands between your finger tips as you let out a chuckle. He was a dickhead no matter the circumstances.

"Are you okay?" You asked to the man laying on the kitchen floor, drooling onto a pillow.

"Uhhhnnhuuh." He let out the slow affirmation of his health, filling you with some relief. Yet you were still tense. What if it happened again? What caused it in the first place? 

The crinkling sound of Toby breathing in and out of the paper bag ceased. You looked over your shoulder to see the boy dragging himself toward you and Tim. "Hey Tobes." 

Toby let out a tired hum, having a mental breakdown really took it outta him. He sat right next to you, leaning his full weight on you, resting his head on your shoulder. His body still shook and shuddered with every breath but they were slower, less panicked, he was calming down. You brought your free hand up behind the boys back. Fingers tangling themselves into his curly hair, gently rubbing his scalp with your fingertips. Toby sighed, muscles relaxing as he further leaned into you.

You weren't tired in the slightest. Two of your boys had just had a breakdown and a seizure. Panic had wormed its way into your brain and wouldn't leave you be, you were wide awake. Though they'd dozed off long ago, you stayed awake. Intent on watching over them till they woke, till they were safe.

You believed that Tim hadn't slept in a few days. Now he lay on the kitchen floor, curled into a loose fetal position. He was sleeping like a baby, unmoving and softly breathing. Though he and Toby were both sound asleep, you didn't take your hands from their hair. You felt the touch was a necessary comfort to them both. It was for you too. You wanted to feel them, feel that they were alive and well. 

The soft ray of natural light was the only thing that alerted you to Brian's presence. You didn't turn your head, not wanting to wake Toby. He'd spoken of having bad dreams. He didn't mumble a single word or thrash about at all. All he did was droll on your shoulder and snore. You liked to think that meant he was having a peaceful sleep. 

Your eyes looked up to Brian, who quietly shut the door behind him. Seeing him was a relief but seeing his yellow hoodie, black mask hanging loosely from a gloved hand, had your stomach churning. At least there was no blood on him. You cast aside your fear, he was here now, that was a good thing. 

His eyes scanning the situation laid out before him. He was the doctor of the house, it probably wouldn't take him very long to figure it out. He set his mask on the table, now by your side. He lowered himself silently to the ground, sitting with his legs crisscrossed.

"What happened?" He spoke softly but not in a whisper. He was smart, but he wanted your personal account.

You took that as an okay to speak, assuming he knew how heavy sleepers Tim and Toby could be. "I think Tim had a seizure." You matched your voice to the same volume as his. "He just fell over," You assumed he'd want more details, "Laid there for a sec. Started shaking."

Brian nodded, sucking his lips into his mouth a moment, looking to his curled up partner. The same man who was your tough as nails leader. It was odd seeing him so helpless, yet so peaceful. He stood up to The Operator but he was still human, he still had health problems despite the regenerative power he had. It was curious. You thought back to Toby's arm. After it grew back, it still held the scars and marks that were echos of his past. The power could heal immediate wounds but not pre-established conditions.

"Grand mal." You had no fucking idea what that meant. You kept your eyes locked on him, observing him for reactions as he watched Tim's sleeping form with furrowed brows. He kept pulling his lips in and out of his mouth. You didn't push him to speak, the repetitive behavior could be something he did in stressful situations. Tim and Toby had been through an awful night, technically morning. Brian wasn't there to help, it could be possible that he felt responsible for what happened, feeling like he let down his boys. He suddenly continued his explanation, "It's a type of seizure." You were correct in your assumption, you just hoped you went with the right course of action. "He has them when he doesn't sleep for long periods of time." A part of you was tempted to nag Tim when he woke up. Tell him to sleep instead of down so much coffee. You knew that shit was bad for him.

There was a long beat of neither of you speaking. Toby's snores filling what would have been silence. You decided to further fill him in. The usually excitable and energetic Toby was passed out after all.

"Toby had a panic attack." You were sure of your diagnoses, having gone through many of them yourself. "Started when Tim wouldn't respond to us." Brian hummed in acknowledgement, your sides lightly brushed up against one another. You continued as Brian pulled his gloves off, "He started singing." The information wasn't exactly necessary to share but you were curious, hoping Brian would fill you in on the blanks that made up Toby's supposedly forgotten past.

Placing his gloves onto his lap, Brian let out a small sigh, looking at the sleeping boy. "Yeah," He began, voice low, "He does that sometimes." You'd recently taken up prying into their pasts as a hobby. Yet you didn't want to ask Brian about anything, if he deemed you trustworthy enough to bestow the knowledge of Toby's past on you, he'd do it of his own accord. "It's a lullaby, you know?" 

"I couldn't tell." You dryly responded, rubbing circles on both of the men's heads. Brian deemed you worthy of a few bits of information. You were thankful, Toby was confusing, difficult to read. Knowing more about his behaviors would allow you to adjust how you interact with him. Making things between you go smoother, letting you better understand how to help him when he needed it. That is, if he let you in on that much information.

"It reminds him of his mom." You weren't expecting that. You never considered the murderer to be a mama's boy. 

"What, uh." You weren't going to pry too deeply into Toby's past, you were honestly too emotionally exhausted to pry into what must have been some horrible shit. You were curious about the song though. You didn't need to know the feelings associated with it right now, though you assumed the song was a comfort to him. "What's it called?"

Brian hummed, slowly pronouncing each syllable, it was foreign on his tongue. "Guten abend, gut´ nacht." It was spoken clumsily, without as much fluidity and familiarity as Toby had spoken it. "I think it means, 'good evening, good night'." That sure sounded like a lullaby to you. Simple and about sleep. "His family _was_ German." 

You hummed in response, holding back a sea of questions. You were worried enough for the boy and Tim, learning more of his past would only further trouble you. What little information you learned was upsetting, not for you but for Toby. With so little memory of his past but a song that reminded him of his mother brought him comfort. A possibly deceased mother from Brian's use of the past tense. 

A lull fell over your conversation as you processed the information. You were so tired of learning of all these things that had hurt your boys. They were all horrible bastards who ripped people to shreds but that didn't mean they weren't completely unsympathetic. You thought of the popular saying _'you either die a hero or live long enough to become the villian',_ and considering they couldn't die, that felt true. They'd all been done horribly by The Operator. You knew you had no fucking chance, but you wanted to shove both your fists up its ass like it was a puppet. Give it a taste of its own medicine.

"How are you?" You croaked out the question, wanting to be free of your thoughts of vengeance on the twig. You cared more about the boys well being than its. 

Brian looked away from Tim's sleeping form and to you, confused by your concern. You needed him to say that he was okay. You needed to know that all of your boys where here, mentally sound for the moment.

"I'm alright." He reassured, your eyes meeting his. The slightest raise of his brows, he was concerned for you. He seemed to understand psychology fairly well, he probably knew how tired you were emotionally, that you couldn't handle any more negativity right now. 

You felt his calloused hand rest atop the hand in Tim's hair. Your hand curling around the mans hair, Brian's hand overlapping yours, softly raking his fingers into the mans hair as well. Then there was another, his arm reaching around your shoulder to place a second hand atop the one that rubbed circles into Toby's curly hair. He was here for them but he was also here for you, you felt your head settle into his shoulder, relying on his strength and his touch like Toby and Tim had done with you. 

"Are you?" He turned the tables, glancing down at your head, his breath soft on your face as he asked the question.

You were fine, worried out of your fucking mind but ultimately fine. Yet you weren't. The weight of your sins weighed you down but not as much as the creeping feeling that was your lack of empathy for those you'd killed. You knew it was wrong but every corpse had a purpose. They all led you to here, with your boys. They couldn't erase every horrible thing that had happened to you. The things they'd done to you. You were still deeply traumatized from that night. You missed your apartment and working six hour shifts at the world's shittiest diner. You had people that understood you better than anybody ever had, but that was all you had anymore. 

"I don't know." You croaked earnestly, trying and almost failing to hold back tears.

You had so much shit going on in your head. Your thoughts were a jumbled mess of contradictions. Self hate, loathing, desperation, fear, happiness, content, warmth, hatred for the twig. Too much had happened to quickly for you to get a grip. You just wanted to get your shit together. You knew you probably wouldn't ever get to. If you died now, you'd die a mess. If you lived on as a proxy, your situation would weigh heavy on your back, eating away at your soul for the rest of eternity or however long the being had a use for you. Either way, your mental state was a twelve foot tall garbage fire and you had no idea how to deal with it. You still thought you could escape, a million plans rushing through your mind, of how you could safely leave with your boys, but the smoke from the fire that was your mental state made everything seem hazy and impossible.

"That's okay." His words were short and simple but the quick dose of validation sent reassurance through your tired mind. "It's okay to not know how you're feeling. You're in a tough situation." You knew that well. Him telling you it was okay to not know how to feel, acknowledging the difficulty of your situation. You felt like you let out a breath you'd been holding for weeks.

Validation from the person who seemed to have his shit together the most out of anyone in this house. Validation from the person who seemed to understand how the mind worked. Validation from someone who was once in the same shitty position as you were. 

You didn't know that you needed to cry but you suddenly took a gasping inhale, hot tears streaking down your face. Brian scooted closer, hands still over yours, your hands still in Tim and Toby's hair. Sides comfortably pressing together, you let yourself relax into him, nuzzling your head into his neck securely, his short hair tickling your face. 

_"It's okay. I'm here."_


	33. 32 - Love Bite

Brian lent you a literal shoulder to cry on, you took the chance to cuddle up to another human being and just cry it out. It wouldn't fix things but it made you feel better. After your long cry, you and Brian sat in a comfortable silence, his ratty work hoodie was surprisingly soft and comfy. The morning was pleasant, until Tim woke up. 

At first he was a groggy mess. Then he noticed your and Brian's hands in his hair and he was not happy about it. He got huffy and red faced. Storming off to sleep the rest of the morning away from you two. You were obviously alarmed at the outburst but Brian did let you in on a secret. Tim gets easily embarrassed and when he gets embarrassed, he gets really pissy. It was cute, annoying, but cute. You were both smiling when you heard him slam the room to his room. 

Tim's storming off woke Toby. He was confused for a moment, waking up on the kitchen floor after having a mental breakdown can do that. Remembering the night before, he got very clingy, mumbling out 'thank you's and hugging you so hard you thought your ribs were going to crack. Brian had to stop him from carrying you back to his room. Toby wanted to go back to sleep, understandably, on his bed over cold tile. He insisted on bringing you with him. He was very transparent about wanting to cuddle. Brian peeled you from Toby's grip, much to the boys disappointment. He said something about a 'next time' and hobbled off to bed. It was cute but you had other plans. Plans that required you to be alone.

You and Brian were both exhausted. Brian more so than you. You got to sleep till three in the morning while he hadn't at all. Once the others had gone to their rooms, he polity excused himself. Leaving you alone in the kitchen. 

They trusted you to be alone near the exit. You doubted they'd be upset if you went on an innocent walk, coming back or being found by one of them. You were going outside but not to do something so wholesome as go for a walk. 

During the wait for the coast to be clear, you changed your clothes. Wanting to be in more appropriate attire for your personal mission. You hurriedly changed in the bathroom. Into jeans and a long sleeve (f/c) shirt. Wanting to cover as much skin as possible. If there was one thing you knew, it was that there ticks in the woods and you didn't want to get fucking Lyme disease. The shirt brought back bittersweet memories of sitting in Sully's trailer before all this happened. Both of you scrolling through shitty clothing websites and finding the worst things possible. Of course you bought the shirt that said ' _I pee in pools'_ in white comic sans across the chest. 

You needed to be sure all of the boys to be fast asleep. Worried about the possibility of being followed, worried they'd try to stop your incredibly stupid and reckless plan.

The door squealed horribly as it always seemed to when you exited the house. They'd left it unlocked. Another testament to how hopeless you were, no matter where you go, they'd follow, **he** would follow. You were hopeless but you had each other. That's why you had to do this.

The boys were adamant about not telling you anything too specific involving The Operator. You had very few experiences with the thing, mostly brushes with it. Your experience with it was mostly circumstances falling into place around you because someone you knew, Dan, was involved with it. You only had two experiences. The first, when it momentarily puppeteered you to kill that officer, Jimmy Holt. The second was the day after you shit talked it, it showing up just to terrorize all of you. It did something to Tim but he wouldn't tell you what, they wouldn't tell you anything. 

In order to learn more about The Operator, you needed more first hand experience with it. You needed it to show up. It'd suck dick but you'd learn about it. If it showed up if you called out its name, how it reacts to certain actions, if it'll punish you and how. You knew it'd be bad but you needed to know more. You were doing this for your boys and for yourself. For freedom.

The forest around you buzzed with life, leafs rustling in the wind, birds chirping. It was peaceful. 

You were alone. You had to change that.

_"HEY! MISTER OPERATOR!"_ You flailed your arms about, like you were waving to someone in the distance. Yet there was no one to wave to, for now. You hoped that calling it by its 'name' it'd show up like the boys said it would, the way they got nervous when hearing it's name, that had to mean something. " _COME AND GET THIS PUSSY!"_ Nothing. Not even the warning buzz of its presence. _"DON'T LEAVE ME HANGIN' BIG GUY!"_

The sounds of the world around you slowly faded away. Natures ambiance was replaced by a faint buzz in your ears. The tickle in your lungs just before a round of coughs tore through your body, having your double over. Eyes squeezed shut as your lungs burned, the taste of warm metal in your mouth as you smiled. 

That told you it was working. You could feel a soft vibration just beneath the skin of your (s/c) fingertips. Your heart was thundering in your chest, panic and fear told you to stop. The desire to help your boys and your lack of self preservation kept you in place. Gasping out of your coughing fit, you continued.

" _MISTER OPERATOR!"_ Dropping it's name seemed to intensify the buzzing, it spreading up your arms. You wanted to get this over with, speed up the process. Get the suffering started so it'd be over quicker. " _COME ON! SHOW YOURSELF SO I CAN SPANK YOUR FLAT ASS!"_ The vibrating traveled to your shoulders and shot down your torso, your heart palpitating with the static. 

You were so fucking scared but there was no backing out. Go big or go home. " _COME ON! DO YOUR WORST, SHOW ME YOUR STUPID FUCKING LACK OF A FACE!"_

It worked.

If you didn't know to look for an impossibly tall set of limbs, you would have missed **him**. You couldn't see its head, its featureless face. It was obscured behind the tree branches and leafs. It wasn't too far away. Maybe twenty feet or so. 

The buzzing had your teeth chattering and muscles shaking. This wasn't good enough. You had to go all in, see what it'd do if you did something other than shout half baked insults.

You knew it was letting you stay conscious. Lucid. When it appeared, the information was suddenly in your head. It was a mortifying power of **his**. You hated it. You wanted the information out of your head, wanting to believe you were only still awake because of your grit. The information didn't go away and **he** didn't move. So you did.

With a scream ripping its way through your throat and passed your lips, you willed your shaking legs to move. At first your run was more like a stumbling baby giraffe, that's how it is when your legs feel like they're filled with bees. Once you found your footing, you pushed yourself forward. Determined to see **his** face. Determined to make **him** show you more. Give you the first hand experience with it that you desired. 

The buzzing was in your eye sockets. Vision doubling as your eyes seemed to vibrate, unable to steady. You'd barley made it five feet and your legs felt like they were going to give out. Your brain screamed for you to stop, give up, leave it be. Yet you persevered through the sickening quake of your skin and bone.

" _DO YOUR FUCKING WORST, YOU BABY BACK BITCH!"_

You couldn't run anymore. You stood tall and still. Two long lines of black took up most of your vision. Legs. The buzz was deafening, you could feel the warm trickle of blood seeping from your ears just barely through the shake of your skin. **He** put the knowledge in your head that **he** was going to do that, **_his_** _worst._

You think you were screaming, either incoherently or a mess of obscenities, you didn't know. All you knew is that you couldn't move and that there was a thing in your face. White, false skin pulled tightly over a mockery of flesh.

A hand around your head. Buzzing in your brain. You were gone.

**\----**

_Movements were not your own. You were a passenger in the car that was your body. You could feel your limbs move, a prickly horrible sensation. You could feel every breath fill your lungs, yet you were not the one controlling them. You were just an observer._

_Watching hands that were your own break the small window, throwing a rock through it. You knew that this was **his** doing. You only knew because **he** allowed it.If **he** wanted you to forget, you would, but **he** didn't. It let you know that you earned this._

_Your hands pulled your body through the window, through the buzz you just barely could feel it, the glass sinking into your flesh. You could hardly see where you were. The moonlight softly reflected off the shards of glass that were now beneath your feet, **he** didn't need you to see. Just act._

_The voice that called out in the darkness wasn't your own. It was scared, confused, "Hello?"_

_The lights turned on._

**\----**

_"-/n)?! (Y/n)!"_ The voice was hazy through the dull buzz of static. Thoughts muddied, fickle flashes of memory playing in your brain. Hands were on your face, soft fabric, gloves. You let out a slurred groan, incoherent and pained. There was a sigh of relief followed by an obnoxious, "Mmauh!" A wet and warm momentary sensation on your forehead, warding off the horrible buzz. 

You felt arms around you, the sensation of being lifted from the ground. You struggled to crack your crusty eyes open, mouth hanging open. You were strangely hydrated with a strong metallic taste in your mouth. A splitting migraine piercing through your brain, muscles stiff and not very willing to move. 

Your body bounced back and froth with the quick and panicked, uneven gait of the person carrying you. _"Guys! Guys! I fuh-found her!"_

He failed to support your head in neck in his hold. Letting them rock to and fro as he moved. There was a warm pounding on the back of your skull. A heavy feeling. The pain let your eyes snap open. You let out a panicked grunt, not knowing where you where, why your face was so wet and warm. 

Your eyes struggled focusing on the boy, seeing double of his mortified face, slick with tears.

His gaze snapped away from the path ahead and to you, " _Holy sssh-shit! Where th-the fuck hah-have you been?"_

You were at a loss for words, literally, your throat felt raw. You hadn't preplanned what you'd say to them if they found you laying down in the woods. All you could push out was a guttural grunt, as you did so something warm bubbled in the back of your mouth. 

All you could recall was throwing insults at the twig and the broken window.

_What did **he** do to you?_

Toby kept his gaze on you a moment longer. You knew he was no empath, but he looked down at you like you were the most pitiful worm in all of existence. Not a look of hate or resentment but fear for your condition. You felt shitty for sure but you didn't think anything too bad happened, presumptuous of you when you couldn't feel half of your body though.

" _TIM! BUH-BRIAN!"_ Toby rawly screaming out their names, looking ahead. Turning your head took great effort, your muscles stiff and sore.

The mass before you came into focus, partially obscured by trees. It was a home, your home. 

You thought you heard a ' _thud'_ before two figures rounded the house. As you grew closer, Tim's familiar voice graced and grated on your ears, " _(Y/N)! WHAT THE FUCK!?"_

**\----**

_The lights revealed the narrow room before you. It was a mess of wrappers, paper, and markers. It made you look to the wall, neck stiffly popping with the motion. Newspapers were tacked to a cork board. A stereotypical red string connecting the metaphorical dots. Headlines spoke of murder, labeling someone as a monster, a disappearance, a fatal stabbing. A spiderweb of information that led to a photo of someone. Below the cork board sat a desk, covered by heaps of paper. Mostly scribbled drawings. O's crossed out with X's, stick figures, gibberish._

_"Who's there?" The voice called out once more. It made your neck swivel away from the mess and to the figure that appeared at the end of the narrow space._

_It didn't let you blink, your eyes burned. It had you standing still._

_It made you keenly aware of how hungry your body was. Thirsty, tired, in need of sustenance for energy._

_The human before you stared in shock at you, an intruder._

**\----**

There was a huddle of men around you, your neck limply swaying as you tried to look up at them. Toby presented you to his companions. You let out a wet cough, unable to cover your mouth as your arms refused to move at the moment. Tim grabbed the sides of your face, brows furrowed, mouth twisted into a harsh frown, " _What in the ever loving fuck, did you do?"_

He was angry, not unusual but there was something else there. The look in his eye told you that he was terrified, the panicked tinge to his barking remark coming through, his voice sounded raw, almost constricted with emotion. 

You let out another cough, there was a thick lump in your throat. You forced yourself to swallow it, you didn't have all day to hack up whatever it was. With a wheezing breath, you answered, "Something."

They were skittish when it came to The Operator. If they found out that you intentionally sought it out, they'd probably hide away even more shit. Your delirious brain believed it best if you lied. However, apart of challenging the eldritch twig, you did do something, something bad.

" _Don't play dumb, you idiot! You've been gone for five fuckin' days!"_ Tim barked, hands harshly squeezing your cheeks.

_"Huh?"_ Was all you respond with. Your memory consisted of what you believed to be the short walk in the woods and the encounter. It definitely didn't add up to five whole days. There were the quick glimpses of memory that felt like watching a first person film. Watching but you couldn't control where the camera panned, what the cameraman did. 

Your weight was awkwardly shifted, arms that held you by your back and behind your knees shifted. A sniffling whine from Toby had you look away from Tim. Brian was prying you from Toby's grip. The boy didn't let go until Brian gave him a sharp glare. He huffed, pressing another chaste kiss to your forehead and letting his hands fall to his sides as Brian hauled you up to his chest. He made sure to have your head steadied on his upper arm. 

The fabric of his hoodie irritated the back of your head, making you cringe and hiss at the sudden pain. Brian looked down to you, stone faced and quiet. You knew he was quiet, unemotional except when he was being a dick or his boys were involved. Yet, he'd been opening up to you, showing you genuine smiles, kindness. Now he was completely closed off, seemingly unemotional. Sunlight reflected the tears that he held back, threatening to spill but he kept them in, his eyes puffy and rimmed with bags, he didn't look like he'd slept the whole time you were gone. 

"(Y/n)!" Tim called for your attention, you shifted your eyes from Brian to Tim. A soft swaying and slowly shifting scenery told you that you were on the move. _"What did you do?"_

**\----**

_Salty skin grazing your tongue, hair between your teeth, blood pooling into your maw. A shocked scream, two hands harshly shoving you away. It made your jaw unclamp from the flesh. Mouth idly hanging open, head rolling back into place, you once again stood tall. The shove didn't move you at all._

_The scrambling figure held the back of their neck, a shallow bite covered by a hand._

_"What?!" They looked at you, shocked and mortified. Your dull consciousness was barley able to think through the buzz. You tried to push the message to the entity controlling your body, trying to tell it to stop._

_"What's going on? Why did you do that?" The voice was shrill, confused. Skin shining with sweat, your mouth forcibly watered. Eyes locked on the hand over their neck, pricks of vibrant red seeping through their fingertips. You were vaguely aware of the saliva pooling in your mouth, filling up to your bottom lip before slowly spilling from your mouth, dripping down your chin._

_One step forward from you sent the person three panicked steps back. Gasping, free arm held out. Their hand held out in a signal for you to stop, "Wait!" Another step, they scrambled back, head swiveling to look to the door. An escape._

_They lunged for the the door, hands fervently working away at the series of locks. They kept looking over their shoulder at you, eyes wide, teary, and terrified. You were rooted in place, unblinking and saliva pouring from your mouth. Softly splattering onto red tinged pools on the floor._

_It made you step once more, just as they were about to open the door._

**\----**

Blinking, another fragment of your memory returned to you. Your brows furrowed.

"I think I bit someone?" You felt like a four year old saying that. What adult fucking bites someone? Well, apparently you.

"Before that." Tim urged gruffly as the four of you made your way around the cabin. 

"Uuh." You didn't want them to shut you off from your limited flow of information. You did this for them after all, for your escape. If they cut you off from their personal accounts then things would be so much harder for you. "I went for a walk?" It was the truth but it came out as a question, you were clearly hiding something. 

"You duh-don't go on a wah-walk and come back-ack looking like th-that." Toby astutely pointed out as the front door was pushed open. Had it really been five days since you passed through it?

"Looking like what?" Your eyes dully burned, they were so dry and no matter how much you tried to blink away the burning sensation, it wouldn't go away. 

You were rushed through the kitchen, you received no answer as you were carried passed the threshold of the living room. 

"Guys?" Dread had your hair standing on end. Heart thudding in hard, dull beats. 

"You look fuckin' awful (Y/n)." Tim growled as the couch came into view. There was a tinge of excitement at the idea, laying on the couch and not moving for sixteen hours. 

"Thanks." You grumbled, you didn't think your outfit was that bad but everyone had their own tastes. You also felt like shit, you were safely assuming that you also looked like shit. You could wonder why but you had just had a run in with the twig. After your last encounter, you felt the worst you'd ever had. 

"Sssh-she looks oh-okay?" Toby's reassurance over your appearance wasn't to convincing. It was like he wanted to be nice but wasn't very convinced with what he was saying. Sweet, but it only hammered in the fact that you must look like death.

Brian took a turn, the couch disappearing from your view. 

Toby scrambled before the older man, "Puh-put her in muh-my bed. It's th-the ssssuh-softest." He rolled his shoulders back, cracking his neck to his shoulder as he spoke. A forced grimace upon his face, he wasn't doing well. 

"Don't put her in mine." Tim grunted, "She'll get blood everywhere."

Blood?

You let out a raspy chuckle as Brian navigated his way around Toby, "No one's suggesting putting me in your bed other than you, dumb ass." You felt awful and the idea of laying on a bed, instead of a mildly lumpy couch, sounded wonderful.

_"I-! Whatever, fuck head!"_ The insult was haphazardly thrown together. He hadn't been insulting you as much recently but today he was laying them on thick. You probably deserved it. The realization hit you, if you had been gone five days they must have been worried sick. They cared about you a lot.

Brian used his shoulder to push open his bedroom door, ignoring his companions. His room was a complete mess. Worse than last time. Books thrown on the floor, bed unkempt, wrappers strewn about. You knew he wasn't the cleanest guy around but Jesus Christ. You were halfheartedly expecting a piss bottle. You didn't see one, it was a relief. If you saw an honest to god piss bottle you'd have a mental breakdown, that would be the last straw.

You were gingerly set on the bed, Tim and Toby filing into the room. Toby immediately rushing over, but Brian held out a hand for him to stop. Just like that person had done to you. Toby ceased his approach, you began to recall that you didn't. Disobeying the soft plea and doing something horrible.

**\----**

_They were on their back, face twisted in agony. They'd slammed the back of their head on the wall when you'd pounced on them, quickly throwing them to the floor. A head shaking 'no' and crying._

_They spoke, desperation evident, "I know it took you! I know this can't be you! Fight it!" Their words were the final sentiments of a fool. An idiot who watched too many movies where the power of love can fix everything. That by somehow telling you to fight it, you'd magically regain control of your body._

_It didn't work like that. **He** couldn't control you long but **he** had a lot of time left. There would be not breaking free from the buzzing hold on your brain. You couldn't stop yourself. You wanted to so badly. The faded shred of yourself buried beneath the static screamed for it to stop, let you go, let you speak. You told it that you'd never disobey it again, never test its patience, never try to escape._

_It knew you were lying._

_The delusional plans of escape were all laid out before **him**. Your will still hadn't been broken, even now. You asked for the worst and **he** let you know that **he** wasn't going to disappoint. As per your request and because you made the hollow promise to be good. You can't just lie to an eldritch entity and expect there to be no consequences. _

_"(Y/n)! Please!" The droll that dripped endlessly from your mouth poured onto their cheek. Their hands were pushing at your chest, trying to shove you off of their body._

_You opened your mouth wider, tilting you head down. A fat river of spit dumping onto their face with a wet slap, you could feel their body trembling below yours. The hands pushed as hard as their body would allow. They didn't affect you in the slightest._

_One of your hands shoved their head to the side while the other yanked at their shirt, pulling it to side. Pale flesh was exposed to you, sweaty and filled with goosebumps._

_Your head buried itself into their shoulder, gaping maw wrapping around the exposed flesh._

_You could feel your teeth sink into their skin._

**\----**

Toby respected Brian's quiet request. The man quickly walking around the boy and passed Tim, who now stood at the edge of the bed. Brian disappeared from the room and into the hall.

"What did you do?" Tim insisted again as the memories began to replay in your brain. Stomach churning violently, the warm metallic taste in your mouth, the memories of teeth sinking into flesh, the fact that you _knew_ it wasn't a dream. 

You needed to vent. Your brain was a muddied mess of confusion and panic. You had to fess up because they clearly knew you fucked up but they didn't know to what extent. Maybe they'd sympathize, maybe they'd tell you more, you hoped you wouldn't regret being truthful. "I kinda sorta," You didn't exactly know what to say, it took a few moments to articulate your earlier actions, gulping before continuing, "Called **him** a bitch and said that I'd smack itsass?" You winced as you delivered the news.

Tim raised his brows, disbelief evident on his strong features for a moment. Brian reentered the room, one hand holding a small trash can, the other holding a first aid kit, the same blank expression on his face.

" _You fuckin' what?"_ You cringed at the words he hissed out through gritted teeth. 

_"WHY?!"_ Toby was never the most logical person of the group. If even he was confused by your actions, you fucked up.

Brian set the trash can next to the bed, face still blank, unspeaking. He was never one for constant chatter like Toby or more casual conversation like Tim but you expected him to say something, anything. Instead he completely clammed up, going nonverbal. He was really, really upset. Either at your actions, making his partners worry, making him worry, or all three. 

You took a moment, forming a coherent sentence that could explain your self sacrificial actions with the hope that they wouldn't get too mad. With a sharp inhale, preparing yourself for the worst, you did your best to speak as evenly as possible.

"I wanted to find out more." Brian popped the white box open, rummaging inside of it a moment, listening. "You guys wouldn't tell me anything so I thought," You forced out a laugh, this wasn't funny at all and you were sure they didn't think that either, "Why not find out more through first hand experience?" Your voice shot up and octave, saying your plan aloud, you realized how fucking dumb it sounded.

You had learned some things though. It responds when it's called upon, by name or by shrewd mockery. It let you know that it could only control you for a brief limited period. You assumed five days, which didn't seem to be very brief to you. To a probably undying entity though, it was nothing. It put the information in your brain, that it couldn't harm you on its own. It could harm those under its jurisdiction but that was it. As someone who'd yet to be deemed a proxy, it couldn't physically harm you or kill you. It could have its proxies kill you but to do the deed by its own hand was impossible. 

It could make you forget the information if it wanted you to but because you paid a fee in someone else's blood, it allowed you to remember. The information and what the process you went about to pay your toll.

**\----**  
 _They screamed with a shrill and cracking voice. The vibrations from their vocal cords were so strong as they traveled along their skin, mixing with the already constant buzzing coursing through your veins. You could feel the slight tremors on your gums as your mouth was forced shut. A mouth full of soft and stringy tissue, wet and warm. If you weren't under its influence, you'd vomit and cry. You were though, and your malnourished body rejoiced at something to eat, a groan slipping from your lips involuntarily. Your dull consciousness screamed but you were so hungry, it told you so your body believed it. You chewed ravenously on the slippery meat, it was tough at first but your teeth gnashed away at the muscle as it slowly gave way and became softer, easy to swallow in one hard gulp._

_It let you feel every movement of the meat as it slid down your throat. You wished that you could stop, that you could wretch. All you could do was watch and feel yourself swallow._

_"I'm sorry!" The voice cried, then there was burst of pain on the back of your head._

_**Smash!**_

_A grunt from deep within your throat escaped as the person beneath you scrambled back._ _Most everything they'd done hadn't phased your mind controlled body, but whatever was just slammed against the back of your skull momentarily stunned you. Vision blurring, mouth opening, spilling blood and spit on the vacated space beneath you. Bits of ceramic on the floor, some sliding off your head with soft 'clink's._

_Your head snapped forward, through the buzz beneath your flesh you could feel a hard throbbing on the back of your head._

_They'd pushed themselves back, sitting with their back to the wall. The door was so close, unlocked._

_"(Y/n), please." They whimpered, deep red seeping into their white shirt. Spreading through the clean cloth in a large patch around the new covered bite. The fabric had shifted back into place, covering your work._

_A hand shot up, gripping the door knob. Whimpering and crying, they still had the resolve to try and run._

_You screamed at them to run already. Shut up and go. Give up on the pathetic wretch of a woman that was you. Reason and words wouldn't help, you or them. Every plea, every call of your name, every desperately caring word, they just made it worse._

_They pulled themselves up, turning the doorknob shakily._

_"I'm going to get you some help, wait here okay?" Escape was in their mind, they could have ran already, moved faster and left the hollow shell of a person that you were behind. Yet they stayed a few moments too long, just to affirm you that they were going to get you help._

_The door was only cracked open a millimeter, cool night air rushing into the room, before a hand was on either side of them, slamming the door shut._

**\----**

" _Are you fuckin' brain dead?!"_ Tim snapped, rounding around the bed, around Toby, leaning over Brian's shoulder. You deserved to be yelled at, it was a fucking awful idea. It was slowly dawning on you why everything was sore and tense while your mouth was wet, hydrated. 

You took in a shuddering breath. You couldn't remember their face, their voice. Just the idea of what expressions they made, what they said to you. The bite you took out of them, you hoped you didn't take more. You prayed you didn't. 

Your head was rolled to the side by a firm hand, exposing the back of your head to Brian. 

" _What the actual fuck is wrong with you?! Why won't you just fuckin' listen to me you stupid ass?! Do you know what it could have done to you?!"_ Your head throbbed as Brian dabbed a wet cloth on the back of your head. Hissing in pain, you attempted to recoil but Brian held your head firm. His grip tightening at the attempt. 

It was best to not move as much as possible, they few movements of your neck had you feeling drained, exhausted. 

_"I did it for you, you bitter fuck!_ " You don't know for sure what you'd done but whatever happened, the memories were traumatic and disgustingly detailed. You kicked yourself for the poor idea, for making them worry about you for five days. Yet you were still angry, irritable due to your circumstances but also the fact that he was so blind to what you were doing. The shit you had to go through all for tidbits of probably useless information. " _Cut me some fucking slack, Tim!"_ Your voice was ragged and weak, " _I know what said about The O-"_

A hand grasped your face, tightly gripping your cheeks and pressing its palm into your open mouth. Calloused and large, it was Brian. He stopped you from saying the title of the skinny asshole who ruined your lives. In your desire to explain yourself, you'd completely forgotten the fact that saying its title seemed to summon **him**. 

Your wild eyes strained to look at Brian, you were facing away from him so it was near impossible. You tried anyway, wanting to see a reaction, a smile, a frown, anything to tell you his thoughts and mental state. He'd comforted you quietly that night in the kitchen, it felt like last night to you but you knew it was days ago. You wanted that soft comfort once more, to feel validated and cared for. Loved.

His actions now were quiet as they had been that night. Yet they were firm with an angry grip. It was understandable that he was angry, that they were all angry. You would be too if you were in their position. 

They cared so much that they were angry at you for putting yourself in danger for their sake. You shut your mouth, Brian taking his hand away from your face. Returning to treating the throbbing ache on the back of your skull. 

There was no beat of silence, somebody was loudly hitching their breath, nearly covering someone else's soft sniffle. Were they crying?

You got on with your explanation, you owed it to them, "I know I shouldn't have done it but," Everything after 'but' was always complete bullshit, "I just want to help you." Your words were weak, quiet, filled with wavering regret. You don't know who you hurt but you regretted that your actions led to them getting hurt, you didn't want to think about the possibility that you killed them. A fifth body, another turning point. Whatever happened, you learned some useless shit, you proved your dedication to them, though it didn't need to be proven in the first place. It was ultimately fruitless but you gained at least something from it, something for your tired brain to work with, a little victory.

A victory that probably meant absolutely nothing.

"I thought if I," You felt something being firmly pressed onto the back of your skull, "If I just learned from experience," You took a shaky breath, your dry eyes being graced with the moisture that came with tears, "I could find something out that you," You sounded so delusional and stupid, which you were, "Didn't know, I could get you out." Those last words were more like a breathy whisper, as you stared blankly at Brian's messy sheets. "I'm sorry."

Brian wouldn't allow his partners to pounce on you due to your physical condition, a head wound and being momentarily paralyzed from the neck down. He would allow them to softly touch you though. You figured that out because you felt the pressure of hands resting on the side of your upper thigh. If you could relax your muscles, you would and lean into the touch.

"You're ssuh-suh-so stuh-stupid, (Y/n)." Toby wheezed out between hitched cries. That night you did all you could to cease his crying, to comfort him, now you'd done the opposite. Idiot.

"You should'a listened to me, dumb ass." Tim didn't bark the words at you, it was more like a grunt of soft contempt, you could tell he was trying to hide the fact he was crying. 

"I know." You felt Brian pull his hand away, leaving something on the back of your head. You assumed the wound wasn't too bad, not having to be stitched up, it still hurt though. His grip loosened, gently pushing the back of your head the rest on the pillow. 

You could finally see your boys again. Toby was letting fat tears roll down his cheeks, rocking back and forth on his heels. He kept glancing at Brian, waiting for an okay to pull you into a tight hug. For now though, he kept his hands on your leg, holding what flesh he could in a death grip. Tim still looked angry but he way his brows were knit, the line of wetness on his left cheek, they told you that he wasn't just angry. Brian's face softened, you hadn't noticed, but his jaw had been clenched throughout the entire ordeal. You saw it relax. He was glad that you were okay. You apology didn't help your condition but it eased their minds just a bit.

Things weren't okay but you were all together again.

**\----**

_Back against the wall, shuddering with sobs, wheezing out, "I know you don't want to do this."_

_They were right, so fucking right. You weren't in control of your body though, you couldn't stop._

_You didn't remember moving. Your teeth were suddenly around the front of their throat. Head turned awkwardly to the side, the flesh of your cheeks dully screaming beneath the buzz, being stretched too far for what was considered healthy. Fists thrust into your gut, it made you hesitate._

_The moment was short, less than a second. It felt so much longer then that though. The smell of blood, hints of salty sweat. Their hitched breath, realizing their fatal mistake. Your teeth grazing their throat, not yet sinking into their skin._

_Time resumed all too quickly. You bit down on the persons throat, skin giving some resistance before quickly sinking away. A shrill scream, hands flying up to your face. One grabbing your chin, one grabbing just below your nose, trying to pry your maw open. They squirmed, fingers burying themselves into your skin. The flesh of their throat shook with their screams._

_It lent your jaw more strength. Flesh suddenly giving way much easier, muscle severing and moving out of the way of your teeth. Blood bursting forth from their neck. The skin and muscle curled into your mouth, resting on your tongue and roof of your mouth._

_They pounded their open palms onto your face, the buzzing only grew in intensity. Your skin prickly and numb to their attempts of escape, it was useless._

_Finally, your teeth clacked together. A chunk of wet flesh in your mouth. Truthfully it was mostly skin and fat but it made sure you got some muscle in there as well. A varied diet, but not very healthy._

_It made your body pull back, at the edges of your mouth some strands of flesh had yet to be severed. You jerked your head back, pulling the flesh from their neck. It dangled loosely from your lips as you straightened your head, chewing._

_A face contoured in agony and fear, hands slapping around their neck. Blood gushing through their fingers. They could still speak, you supposed you didn't bite down on their vocal cords._

_"(Y/n)." It put the thought in your head, making you wonder how many bites it would take to shut them up. The one who shuttered and cried. Body in shock, forgetting about the door or accepting the fact that they were a goner._

_They looked up to you with, fear, adoration, relief, sadness, love. All while their warm blood seeped from your closed lips as you chewed on the soft flesh, this bite was much easier to chew up, and to swallow._

_"I love you."_

_The finality of those words. Your consciousness screamed the words back over and over. It did not let you speak, only filling your mind with static and the sight before you._

_It let you knew how tired your body was, how empty your stomach was, how dry your mouth was, you needed to eat._

**\----**

"I think I did something _really bad_." The statement was spoken through chattering teeth. The soft sounds of your teeth coming together made you sick, a reminder of what you'd done. 

Your stomach violently churned as the images of a bloody throat came into your mind. There was still blood in your mouth, you could taste it. There was still flesh in between your teeth, something soft and chunky under your tongue. _"I'm going to v-"_

The sensation of bile shooting up your esophagus shut you up. You couldn't move on your own. Brain quickly grabbed the side of your head, dragging your face to the side of his bed, turning it down towards the trash can. 

Your vocal cords emitted an involuntary sound of effort as your stomach emptied itself into the trash can. A warm and thick stream of vomit, tasting of blood and raw meat. Eyes bulging from your head, tears slipping down your crusty face, you watched the vomit eject itself from your body. It was a deep red, a rich brown in some areas, chunky and like a thick beef stew. 

Hands were on your back, your mind was too fuzzy with vomit to count how many. All you knew is that they rubbed your clothed back in small circles. 

"It's oh-okay, ssson-sonnenblümchen." Toby cooed out weakly. You had no idea what he just said to you. You assumed it was a nickname, him adopting the behavior that you'd used to help comfort him, or your hearing was fucked up.

The thick stream ceased for a few moments allowing you to gasp for air, to let out a weak cry. The sensation of movement being allowed in you shoulders told you that you wouldn't be paralyzed much longer. Your body shuddered as you coughed up something thick and viscus, it was stuck in your throat a few moments before it was finally expelled from your open mouth. It fell into the red surface of the vomit with a wet slap, splattering bits of the hot liquid onto your face.

You heaved, letting out a choked sob, _"Oh my fucking god."_

**\----**

_It took three shallow bites for them to stop moving. They clawed at your face and cried the entire time. On the second bite your teeth pierced into their vocal cords with a deafening crunch. Their screams were guttural rasps from that point on._

_It made you spit out the flesh from the three chunks, letting you know that your body would only be provided sustenance once the deed was done. They'd passed out halfway through the third. You didn't know if they were still alive or just unconscious. Either way, you mouth was salivating sickly, teeth slick with blood and saliva._

_Your nose, lips, chin, cheeks, all wet and warm. Your clean shirt had grown filthy with their blood, especially directly under your head._

_You wanted to disappear into your mind. Forget what you just saw, refuse to see more, but it held your eyes open._

_Sinking teeth marks leading into the open wounds on their neck. The blood pulsing out quickly through their exposed muscle, if they weren't dead already, they'd bleed out soon._

_It didn't want your food to get cold._

_You didn't want to eat it._

_You wanted to cry, scream, go blind, have amnesia. You were granted none of those privileges._

_You were like a ravenous dog when it made you lunge forward, mouth open and teeth ready to chomp down on the first thing they could get ahold of. The flesh squelched, moving around your teeth, sliding onto your tongue._

_It kept on going, the biting, the yanking of flesh from the body. Down the side of their neck, not caring once hair started to enter your mouth. It made you swallow the long strands all the same, tangling in your teeth._

_It made you keenly aware of your filling stomach. It wouldn't let you wretch or vomit. Every bite was a sick relief to your empty stomach, your once dry mouth. You couldn't count the bites. There were so many semi-circles in their neck, some digging in deep, exposing hints of vertebrae and cartilage. Blood on the walls, blood on the floor, blood under your fingernails._

_You weren't hungry anymore._

**\----**

The more you remembered the worse it got. The dread, the regret, the self hate, the sickness. You felt like you were overheating, sweat sticking your filthy clothes to your skin. You supposed eating human flesh wouldn't be too good for you.

You wondered how long your body kept it down. How long _they_ were in you. Who they were. Why they knew your name. Why they loved you.

There was a hand in your hair, holding it back while you'd vomited. Blinking, you looked up to see the owner of the arm was Tim. Uncharacteristically considerate of him. "Thanks T-"

Another round of vomit tore up through your esophagus. You let it rise without resistance. The taste of stomach acid and flesh was horrible on your tongue but it was being expelled from you. You were a filthy gutter rat of a human being. You wanted to feel at least a little more clean, better. You'd never be normal, even if you somehow beat the odds and escape, you'll always be a fucked up and disgusting person. You're worse than a bad person, you're a quintuple murder and a cannibal. Not by choice, sometimes. 

"I got you, (Y/n)." Tim held your (h/l) (h/c) locks back as he whispered to you reassuringly. You were in a horrible state, but at least your murder roomie would keep vomit out of your hair. It was strangely domestic, a soft touch in your hair, protecting you the only way he could. You were grateful. There were still people in this world who cared for you, who could stand to touch you so tenderly. Life isn't all bad. Still pretty shitty though.

The vomit ceased once more, leaving you gasping for air and sobbing.

"I think I fucking ate somebody." You hitched out, screwing your eyes shut, trying to will the memories away. " _It made me fucking eat somebody."_ You took in a hitching gasp, the taste of blood in your mouth was horrifyingly familiar. 

"It muh-made me duh-so that one time-mme too." Toby chimed in, words of solidarity were nice. You weren't alone in the fact that you were a sickening cannibal. Toby wasn't sickening to you though. He was demented, sadistic, and had no empathy for those he killed. He killed Jen and Dan. Yet you cared about him, so fucking much. He held you when you needed human contact. At first it was sickening, make you feel like a desperate and disgusting fool. Now it was one of your greatest comforts, his smile was one of your favorite things to wake up to.

"Don't tell her that, Toby." Tim quickly scolded the boy. He was trying to be considerate of the fact that you probably didn't want to think about how you ate somebody. Tim was abrasive, rude, brash, loud, annoying, sometimes. You enjoyed his presence more than you cared to admit. Whenever he got huffy you found it stupidly cute. A bear of a man brought down to an embarrassed mess, it was always a delight to see. He was caring, more than he let on. He looked out for his partners needs all while acting like it wasn't a big deal. Like he didn't pay close attention to what his partners were comfortable with, having a deep understanding of their limits. He was still really stupid though, amazingly so.

You glanced to Brian, your arms finally able to function. Slowly and with resistance but they were functional. He was still nonverbal but he looked less stone faced, jaw unclenched and brows unfurrowed. You knew he was just going through the motions, his lack of speech didn't bother you. If you asked yourself a few days back if you cared about Brian, you would have said that he could 'suck your meat and die.' Now though, you saw someone softly caring, sometimes to the point of self sacrifice. You hadn't seen an extreme example of this but you had a feeling it stayed true in sticky situations. Brian was scary, hard to read, eerily quiet at times. You liked him nonetheless. He was caring, sweet, a gentle soul. Also a big fucking nerd. Literally who can understand cyptology? Brian, that's who.

Coughing as you let out another choked sob, something tickled the back of your mouth. Another cough brought the thing closer to your lips. 

Able to move your arms, you slowly brought your dominant hand to your wet lips. 

"What are you doing?" Tim sharply inquired. You'd be grossed out of someone was putting their fingers in their mouth after vomiting so much. 

Your fingers found the stringy wet thing. Pulling it forth, making yourself gag is it dragged the rest of itself from your throat and passed your tongue. You didn't drop it in the trash can, instead you held it up to your face. Your eyes took a few seconds to focus on the mostly red set of strings. You blinked, your other hand moving to the strands, a sick curiosity washing over you. 

You pinched your fingers together on the strands, dragging them down. Wiping them free of blood, saliva, and stomach acid.

Without the thick soup of horrible liquids weighing it down. The strands bounced up upon your non-dominant hand releasing them. It was six long and curly strands. You squinted, focusing your eyes on the color, a horrible suspicion filling you. 

_Please no._

It was hair. Long, curly, and orange.

**\----**

_"Oh my god." He gasped, hands over his mouth for a few moments at the sight of you. You couldn't tell if he let out a sigh of relief or a hitching breath in preparation to cry. "It's you." He brought his hands away from his face, running them through his long and greasy hair. Dark eye bags hanging on his face. Glowing skin had grown sickly pale. "I've been," He wouldn't look away from you, smiling melting into a frown and back again, "I've been looking for you."_

_It wouldn't let you move. It wouldn't let you tell him to run._

_He glanced to the cord board at your side, "As you can see, aha." His awkward laugh was shaky, with shock or fear you did not know. He was always so smiley. Seeing him like this was heart breaking. The sight of you was an obvious relief to him, the boy whipping his tears from his eyes. In his relief, he started to vent at you, "I knew you weren_ ' _t a monster. I told them but nobody believed me and I just-" He pressed his palms to his his eyes, letting out a shaky groan. "I tried to move on and I'm sorry I didn't. It_ ' _s because I was so stubborn and wanted one little thing, one good thing back in my life. Now that everything has gone crazy."_

_He took a step toward you, peeling his palms from his green eyes. Looking to your hypnotized form with relief and delight._

_You couldn't tell him to keep away._

_"Mom died in the hospital, the diner shut down, Emile's gone, my latest boy-toy called me psycho and left me on read for the past three days." He rambled off his list of woes, slowly approaching._

_His life was in disarray, you could relate._

_The poor boy, fool, idiot, sweetheart. He didn't deserve this._

_"That thing's been watching me you know?" He whispered out the words, like if he did so it couldn't hear him. It was here though, inside you, watching him with blank eyes. "I figured out too much I think. I don't know what's going on exactly but I know it did something to you. I just know it! I know you're not," He pondered over his words a moment, not wanting to be painfully blunt, he was always so considerate, "Like that."_

_Everything went wrong because he knew you. This was partially your fault. It was on Dan too but it was mostly on **him**._

_He'd connected the dots, finding things he shouldn't have, seeing things he shouldn't have. It put the information in your head, it let you know how obsessively he's been looking. His downward spiral only worsened after his mom died._

_"You didn't have to break my window," He laughed, "But I_ ' _m glad you did. I'm glad you're here." He came closer, paying no mind to how still you stood, how empty your stare was. "I missed you so much, (Y/n)."_

_He held out his arms in a wide gesture, preparing to pounce on you. He was going to hug you._

_You begged him not to._

_"Come here you beautiful bitch." He sniffled, inching closer arms throwing themselves around you. He rested his head on your shoulder with a content sigh, holding you tight, "I love you so much, you know that?"_

_Sully was always such a trusting and caring soul. Sometimes to the point of self sacrifice._

**\----**

The memory came to you as you blankly stared at the hair hanging from your fingers. _"No."_ You knew it was true. His face slowly melting into your memories, his voice becoming recognizable. You ate your best friend. _"No god, please."_

He'd always called himself a snack but you never thought it'd be in that kind of way.

Your shaking hand dropped the hair, it floated down into the vomit. Into what was left of him. You wondered how much it made you eat, how much was left of him, sitting in a pool of coagulating blood on his trailer floor.

Your face contoured in on itself as you let out a sharp cry, " _No, no, no, no."_ No amount of begging, wishing it wasn't true, would change things. There was nothing left in your stomach to vomit up, your head throbbed, your skin was hot. Guilt and dread spun your guts about in a painfully heavy sensation. 

The trashcan was lowered to the floor. Two large hands on either side of your face, thumbs whipping away yours tears. Brian shifted you into a more comfortable position away from the edge of the bed. You looked into his eyes, searching them for answers to your woes. There was empathy and sadness, a gaze of care. You were still cared for even as the disgusting fuck that you were. It made your skin crawl. You wanted to tell him to let you go, you didn't deserve the touch but you couldn't bring yourself to reject the touch. You needed it.

Firm pats on your legs had you looking to Tim, brows raised and lips sucked into his mouth. You were a pitiful sight, hard to watch. Yet he looked to you anyway.

"We're here for you." His words wavered, not due to a lack of truth but because he was crying, trying to keep himself from being too obvious about it. A pained smile was spread on his lips.

Toby crawled onto the bed. You looked to the boy, crawling to your side. You noticed a sleeping Goober at the edge of the bed, fur matted and its natural sheen gone. The poor thing must have been worried sick. You were here now, he wouldn't have to worry. 

Toby laid right next to you, Brian didn't protest to the boy laying at your side on his bed. His gloved hands found themselves into your hair. Rolling his shoulders, he began to roll strands of your hair between his fingers. 

Mimicking your comforting actions once more, the boy spoke, breath warm on your sticky face, " _It's oh-okay maus, wuh-we're here."_

You couldn't stop sobbing.


	34. 33 - Bumblebee Kisses

Ten days since you challenged him, five days since you returned. You don't know on which day it made you eat Sully. You guessed on the fifth day, right before it returned you to wander the forest surrounding your home. The human body digests food in its stomach for two to four hours. You didn't want to think about what it made you do on the days leading up to Sully's killing. Where you went, what you did, if you hurt anybody, killed, ate.

The most of the past five days back have been spent with you laying in Brian's bed, watching god knows what on his clunky TV. Time felt slowed. It healed all wounds but time wanted to slog through itself as slowly as possible, elongating your emotional distress. You laid so still for many reasons; you had a concussion, you were weak from being used as a meat puppet for five days, and you were really sad and needed a time out.

Brian kept the lights off most of the time. The only light you got was from the window that sat behind his headboard. He stayed up late a lot of the time, sitting at his chunky computer doing nerd shit. You didn't talk too much, opening your mouth made you sick, the feel of your teeth touching brought back terrible memories. That was fine, Brian wouldn't talk to you at all. Either he was still nonverbal or giving you the longest cold shoulder you'd ever received. When you did speak, it was mostly you repeating ' _I'm sorry,'_ and crying. Sorry to your boys, sorry to Sully who loved you to the end. He understood that it wasn't you, tried to comfort you and fucking died because of it. It wasn't his fault that he died. If he ran you knew it would have made you hunt him down. Any of his neighbors that had this misfortune to still be awake would see the heinous act. Though you didn't doubt that you woke some of them up by making Sully scream like he did.

You idly wondered how the news portrayed the murder as you half watched a weather forecast. Your DNA was definitely all over him, the authorities would know it to be you. You wonder what your coworkers thought. The living ones. If they were scared to be around a wolf in sheep's clothing for so many years, if they also doubted the fact that you were a monster. You hoped no one else would look into you. Let the media call you a sick monster, a rabid cannibal, a feral woman living in the woods who eats kids for breakfast. You wanted to be forgotten by those who knew you. There was no old you, no new you, you were always going to end up here no matter what choices you made. You firmly believed that it was the set course for your life. You were always going to be a murderous, twink eating, slasher roommate having, train wreck with a terrible fashion sense. 

Brian didn't let you walk around unless it was necessary, meaning you only got to be escorted to the bathroom and back. Trips to the bathroom were always a trip, the bad kind. Obsessively brushing your teeth, scrubbing your face, cleaning under your fingernails. It was always a frenzy to feel clean but no matter what you did, it wouldn't erase the metaphorical blood on your hands. It wouldn't erase that you knew what it felt like to eat human flesh. No matter how raw you'd rubbed your face or gums, you could still vividly remember the blood on your tongue, the blood caked around your mouth.

Goober laid with you a lot, mostly at your side. It should have sickened you when he licked your face, it was a grim reminder of all that you'd done. Yet it didn't make your stomach churn, it made you remember but it made you feel happy, loved. You didn't deserve love, affection, kindness. You were a horrible villain, yet you received so much love and care.

Brian didn't speak to you, smile at you, but he was a real mother goose. He made sure you drank plenty of water, ate, no meat products which you appreciated. He made sure that your concussion was healing nicely, helping you maintain the numerous cuts and bruises littering your body, doing all he could to keep the noise levels of Tim and Toby to a minimum. He was mad but he took good care of you.

Tim came in to scold you a lot. Not scream angrily but you knew he was still very upset with you. He'd call you things like dumb ass, fuck head, and if he was feeling a little less vindictive, your name. He'd come in to remind you of how bad your choices were. When you agreed and self deprecated, he'd get huffy. Say things like, "It's not as fun when you're depressed. Get well soon."

Under the guise that he wanted you to verbally fight back, that he enjoyed being mean to you. You knew his 'get well soon' was genuine though, he wanted you to recover so you both could go back to halfheartedly insulting one another. It was the only way he knew how to express his concern and you understood, you appreciated his sporadic check ups.

Toby had become a blessing and a curse all in one. You knew he was clingy and needy before, but holy shit. He constantly barged into Brian's room. Often waking you from your naps, you slept to escape your horrible reality but also because it was necessary for recovery. Toby wanted you to get better but he was also incredibly impatient and wanted to look after you. At first Brian tolerated him constantly in his room, climbing onto his bed and latching onto you. It was nice to be held, words of affirmation mixed with phrases like, ' _don't ever leave us like that again',_ hands tangling in your hair and rubbing your back.

He'd made it a habit of calling you those foreign nicknames, you were too emotionally exhausted to ask what they meant. You knew they were remnants of his forgotten past, sticking to his brain. Nicknames his mother probably called him as a child. He was very forward about his feelings with his actions but you still doubted that he had genuine feelings for you. You just did something really fucking dumb, you'd be all over someone like that too if they scared you like that. 

Being impatient and hyper affectionate, Toby caused a bit more harm than good when it came to your recovery. You needed a lot of sleep and quiet but Toby was a nonstop moving chatterbox. Brian usually had to quietly usher him out of the room after twenty minutes or less, leaving the two of you alone with the soft white noise of the TV and Brian on the keyboard. 

Sleeping for most of the day made it hard to sleep at night. You still slept, usually. Sometimes you couldn't, with the white noise off your brain had free reign to conjure up whatever horrors it wanted. The images of Sully's pulsating flesh as he lay unconscious, the skin and fat on your tongue. The thoughts plagued you all hours of the day, but especially in the dark silence. You didn't eat too much, there was never much to vomit up into the trashcan that had taken residence beside the bed. 

By some miracle, you kept your food down tonight. Maybe you were getting better or maybe it was worse because remembering the feeling of flesh in your mouth didn't make you vomit immediately. 

You laid on your side, facing the pillow that Brian placed between you both, facing Brian's back. He had a queen sized bed, big enough for you both and Goober. He put the pillow between you both every night as a silent statement: he was still mad at you. 

You stared at his back, the moonlight just barely illuminating his frame. You were tempted to throw the pillow away, to cling to his back. You needed physical comfort but you understood boundaries, that Brian would probably put more pillows between you both if you even attempted it. He's so stubborn he might even go sleep on the couch. You were content with staring at him, happy to have another human in the same bed with you. He wasn't afraid of you. You were a cannibal, and yet he didn't fear for his flesh. After all, he could heal from any damage you did. He was much stronger than you'd ever be. You also weren't very tempted to rip out a chunk of anybody's flesh anytime soon. You didn't feel like you deserved such trust, his back to you, leaving himself open and vulnerable. You couldn't do shit to him, but it was still a gesture that made you feel normal. It felt like you and Brian had a marital dispute, him giving you the cold shoulder for not eating the lasagna he slaved over for five hours.

More light filtered in through the window as the clouds parted, shining brightly on the Brian's hair, making it look more blond and delicate than you knew it was. You couldn't get the thought of angry house wife Brian out of your head. Once you recovered you were going to make it up to all of them. 

His head shifted suddenly, you didn't know he was awake. He turned his head and torso, facing you with an even gaze. His hazel eyes now illuminated by the moonlight, shimmering softly in the dark, the soft light seemed to accentuate his cheekbones and subtle curves of his face. You stared at one another quietly for awhile. It was tense, you didn't know if he was checking up on you for health reasons or if he felt you staring and wanted to be a dick. 

You couldn't take the quiet tension any longer, the air was thick with it. You had to cut through it somehow.

"Hey buddy." You weakly croaked at the man, he kept his lips sealed tight. "How's it going?" You forced the overly casual question past your lips at the straight faced Brian.

He didn't respond, letting your question hang in the air as you stared at one another. His eyes only shifted for a split second, a barley noticeable twitch downwards, inspecting your face. If he thought that you were going to look away, break the staring contest when you'd proven to have mad grit, he was dead wrong. You'd stare into his eyes as long as he'd allow, looking so deeply into another humans eyes was a comfort. You also didn't want to 'lose' the interaction. You were sorry and you refused to shrink away from his judgmental gaze. 

"Are you still nonverbal or are you mad at me?" The words slipped passed your lips without much thought. You wanted to know where you stood in his mind, you cared what he thought of you. You knew he was still angry but you wanted to hear him say something, anything. May it be chastising you or validating you, you just wanted to hear his voice.

He blinked, not speaking. You both lay, staring at one another over the pillow between you. It didn't block your view of him at all, it was a short barrier. Your mouth felt dry awaiting his answer. Anger or relief, you'd take the emotions he'd voice as a comfort. 

"I'm still mad at you." The words were spoken in a steady hushed monotone before Brian turned away from you once more.

Relief flooded you, he let you know how he was feeling. He was still pissed but that was because you put yourself in a dangerous situation, paying a grave price. He cared about you, more than you deserved. Then again, he'd killed countless others, stalked, tormented others with his cryptic code, nerd shit. You were one in the same, he could relate. You were both horrible together. 

Though his back was to you once more, shutting you off from his face, not speaking once more, you were relieved. It was funny, he could do so much worse to you as punishment but instead, he gave you the the cold shoulder and made sure that you knew that you were in the dog house. You found yourself smiling at his back. He cared but he also knew he couldn't win your staring contest. He may be an insanely good stalker, skilled in staring but you'd dealt with his shit, Tim's creepy staring trained you to not look away or back down. Brian gave up his even yet judgmental stare, you liked to think that he wasn't letting you win, that you were just that annoyingly good at eye contact. You drifted to sleep without thoughts of viscera, a soft smile on your lips.

You were awoken by a plate being set down by the bedside table, the soft clink against the wood making your eyes snap open. You slept lightly the past few nights, horrible nightmares constantly waking you up. Your brain took every little excuse to wake up. 

Blinking the sleep out of your eyes, you saw Brian walking away from the bed, leaving the steaming plate of pancakes behind. He sat himself down in the wooden chair that sat before his computer, picking up a book that you couldn't read the cover of and a pen to write with. 

Groaning, you pushed yourself up from your lying position, back pressed up against the headboard.

"Thanks Brian." You spoke through a yawn, looking to the food beside you. He made sure to feed you things you wouldn't have to chew on too hard. Anything that provided a tough resistance made you gag, and he had apparently picked up on it. You'd get over it eventually but for now you were eating apple sauce and soft pancakes. 

No response, he was still mad after all. You found yourself smiling at him as you picked up the plate, setting it on your lap. He didn't care that you ate on his bed and he wanted to keep you in his room alone with him as much as possible. He wanted to keep things to a simple and quiet routine while you recovered. The TV already on, the volume low enough to be a soft comforting murmur as you both did your own thing. Your partners were a bit too rowdy for your tired self at times and Brian understood your social limits. That didn't mean you missed Tim and Toby hanging around all the time, you wanted to go back to all of you together, holding one another on the kitchen floor.

Goober perked his head up as you began to slowly eat away at the pancakes. You assumed Brian had already fed and walked him, he was an excellent dog dad. You'd been a horrible dog mom, you hoped he didn't feel unloved by you. The bed shifted as Goober stood, he'd been laying at your feet. He gingerly padded around to your side, tail lowly waving as the bed creaked under his weight.

`"Hey baby boy." You softly cooed as he lay at your side, putting his head on your lap and looking up at you with wide eyes. He was begging for food. 

With a breathy chuckle, you tore a small piece of pancake from your fork, holding it to his mouth. His teeth grazed your fingers as he pulled the sweet breakfast food away from your food. You did your best not to cringe, you were trying to get over it the best you could. You wanted to be okay, not traumatized and full of self hate. You owed it to Sully. He uplifted you in the hardest times, supporting you through your bad decisions, holding you when you cried, sneaking into the diners freezer with you and eating away at the ice cream in storage whenever one of you got broken up with. He loved you and you loved him, best friends to the end. He wanted you to be okay, he wanted to get you help before he helped himself. He would want you to try to recover, try to heal. You hated yourself and deserved to rot away in a sea of self hate but you wouldn't let yourself drown. Only for him. Only because it was the only way you could honor his spirit, his sacrifice. 

You sucked your lips into your mouth, steeling yourself to give Goober another piece, the soft flesh was a horrible reminder but you dealt with it. You were forcing yourself into little desensitizing situations, like how you held out another piece of pancake to Goober. His teeth softly nipped at your fingers, you quickly pulled away you saliva soaked fingers from his muzzle. You wondered if that's what Sully felt, but you knew it was worse, so much worse. 

It took so much effort to not hack up the few bites of pancakes you'd had. You kept them down with a harsh gulp. It reminded you of the feeling of flesh being forced down your gullet. You shuddered as you felt the food travel back down your throat. You knew trauma was long lasting, taking years to get over at times but you hoped to god that you got over this shit quick. Every meal was a challenge, every movement of your mouth reminding you of how your teeth gnashed away at his skin.

Goober let out a content sound as you passed him another piece of pancake. At this point, he'd had more of your breakfast than you had. You smiled at the pup as he softly chewed away. Love and disgust churning in your gut.

Trying to desensitize yourself was fine and all but sometimes you needed to look away from Goobers maw. Sharp teeth destroying the soft, tan, sweet, a reminder that was hard to watch. Your eyes flicked up to the most distracting thing in the room, Brian. He was looking at you and Goober, book resting on his lap, a warm smile on his face.

The disgust fell away as your mouth made an 'O', you hadn't seen him smile in days. ten days to be exact.

" _Is that a smile I see?"_ You couldn't help but tease with a laugh. It felt so fucking good to see him smile so warmly after days of nothing but a blank expression. You deserved it for sure and it was how he was coping, yet it still was so rewarding to know you'd done something right. Something that made him smile. 

His smile fell back into a blank expression, the wide grin that had spread across your lips fell. You ruined the moment, idiot.

"Sorry," You'd apologized so many times, another apology wouldn't do anything, "I just got excited seeing your beautiful smile." Your words were somewhat of a bittersweet joke but they were also true. His smile was infectious and so bright you thought you were looking at the sun, missed the Brian you had begun to know. The goofy nerd with the lopsided toothy grin. 

Brian's face stayed even at your comment, you let out a sigh. The word salad pushed itself past your lips like the chunks of Sully's flesh, quickly and with pain in your gut, "I'm sorry," Another apology that wouldn't do shit, "But you bitches make me feel loved and I want to help you. I've known you guys for like, two weeks but I've genuinely never felt so cared for," Your voice cracked with your sincere flow of words, "I want to do something for you too, but all I can think of is getting you assholes out of here. You've been through so much more bullfuckery than I have and I can't fucking imagine what it's like. I hate that thing and I know you guys hate it too. I can't stop myself from doing stupid shit. I hate myself so much and you guys are all I've got left. I know I fucked up," You set your fork onto your plate, letting your fists curl into tight balls, "I know I'm a pathetic waste of air. I know I'm stupid and annoying and dumb and such a fucking loser." You couldn't stop yourself from letting the self deprecating comments pouring passed your lips, your genuine opinion of yourself.

Brian stood from his chair, setting his book down on the table as you continued, "I know it's all my fault that Sully's dead." It wasn't entirely but it sure felt like it, you may have not been in control but that didn't change the fact that it was your teeth that tore open his throat. You screwed your eyes shut, throwing your hands into your hair, harshly gripping fistfuls of your (h/c) locks. Tears beginning to seep past your closed eyelids. "I know I'm disgusting. I know tha-"

_"Stop."_

Hands over yours, thumbs rubbing the back of your clenched fists, trying to ease your palms open. The bed had sunken down near your hips, you opened your eyes to find Brian on the edge of the bed by your feet, leaning forward. You took in a shuddering breath, not out of fear but because you were sobbing, self hate filling you. You were failing Sully. God, you fucking suck.

His touch was soft and warm, you didn't deserve it. Yet you listened to him anyway, fingers uncurling from your locks reluctantly. His face was soft, brows raised ever so slightly, eyes scanning your face, looking at your crying face with a gaze of empathy. He dropped the cold shoulder act to comfort you. He cared about a monster like you so much. Love from one monster to another, true and tender.

" _Stop talking about yourself like that."_ His voice was low and soft. Face inches from yours, making sure that you were looking at him, making sure that he could make you stop self deprecating, making sure that he could make you feel okay.

"But I-" You began to protest a he gently lead your hands away from your head.

" _Stop."_ The command was firm. A demand to cease your self hate. " _It's not your fault."_ The reassurance was a welcomed warmth as he set your hands down at your sides, gentle and pleading. 

"But I-" You needed his kind words, wanted and craved them but you couldn't so easily accept them. You felt the need to protest his affections, you didn't feel that you deserved it.

"(Y/n)." His hands removed themselves from yours, one placed itself beside the pillow you lay head on to support his weight, grazing your shoulder. The other gently cupped your face, rubbing away tears with his thumb. "You fucked up and paid the price." Straight to the point as always, "But you don't have to pay it again. You don't have to ruin yourself like this for us. We don't want you going through any more grief because of us." This was the first time any of them had verbally acknowledged the shit they put you through, in a light that didn't paint it as funny to them.

Did they feel bad for hurting you? Were they fine with the fact that they hurt you just so things could develop the way that they have? Was the hell you'd gone through to get to this point worth it?

You sniffled, blinking out a few more tears. You couldn't stop them and you didn't want to. Crying helped you through a lot of shit and Brian wasn't asking you to stop crying. He was just asking you to listen, take his words to heart. 

"Shit happens. All you do now is pick yourself back up, but not by yourself because we're here to help you." His breath was warm on your face. You stopped your sniffling and hitched breathing, tears still spilled but you involuntarily ceased all movement. Completely transfixed on his soft hazel eyes, _"We've got your back."_ There was no use of 'I', that'd be excluding how much Tim and Toby had helped and were willing to keep helping. There was no I in team after all.

You blinked, his calloused thumb rubbing small circles on your cheek. You couldn't help yourself, smiling weak yet warmly at the man who held you, "Thanks, _bumblebee."_

His brows furrowed as he cracked crooked grin with a soft huff of a laugh, completely taken aback by the statement, "What?" Your close proximity allowed you to see the pink dusting his cheeks, it was cute how bashful he could be. His flushed cheeks were a rare yet rewarding sight.

Truthfully, the nickname slipped passed your lips without much thought. It was mushy and not very well thought out, and the fact he was flustered and so close to you did not help your explanation.

"Well," You chuckled, frankly a bit embarrassed at the slip on the tongue, "You have a 'B' name and you're always," You let out a small laugh, "Buzzin' around like a bee." You clicked your tongue as your cheeks grew hot, a fat grin spread on your face. "And," You added, high off his infectious smile, "You're sweet like honey." It was like a cheesy pickup line but you didn't completely mean it like that. Brian deserved the compliment as stupidly sweet as it was, it was true. He was a sweet man, working hard for the sake of everybody else, also he had a 'B' name.

His smile only grew, you found yourself staring at its radiance.

"You're cute." Your heart fluttered, feeling like it was skipping a beat at the same time. You don't know why you found his tooth gap so stupidly cute, why you loved the way his stubble framed his face, how his smile was so nice. You were staring, lips slightly parted, heart racing. You made yourself look back to his eyes; they were preoccupied just like yours once were. Glancing at your lips as well.

The past few days you'd been obsessively applying chapstick that smelled and tasted of honey. The strong scent took your mind off the blood, moisturizing your lips as the twig didn't care to moisturize your lips in the five days you were gone. Maybe the scent helped your brain piece together the nickname by association.

His eyes flicked back up to yours, hand softly pulling you closer. You didn't resist, leaning into the touch. His head slowly tilting, faces growing close, you could feel his warm breath on your face.

You'd kissed people before, you knew what happened in the build up. The glancing at lips, the slow leaning forward. You let your eyes flutter shut on instinct. With Toby the kiss was out of nowhere, in the middle of a pool of his and a strangers blood. Then you had no time to properly prepare yourself, but Brian was slow and deliberate. You pushed aside a mountain of confusion, accepting the act of affection eagerly.

His lips found yours, they were slightly chapped but warm. Not pressing too hard but not just barley touching you, a proper kiss, sending your heart fluttering. Your hands moved on their own, finding his shoulders and softly holding onto them. Ever so slightly pulling forward, suggesting he come closer. The stubbly hair above his lips softly grazed your electrified skin, you were hypersensitive to every little touch, a delightful shiver running down your spine. Taking in every little movement with warm acceptance.

Everything fell away expect for his touch and presence. You didn't think, you just acted. 

Dopamine was filling your brain as you both pressed your lips into one another, slightly parted. He began to move and you followed his lead. Brain completely fried and high off his touch, he took the reins and you didn't mind at all. In a slow tandem, your closed your mouths, lips slightly pulling apart for barely a second before they met once more. His mouth slowly opened, you followed his guidance. Lips slowly closing once more, staying together for a moment more before parting. 

Your hands ghosted over the skin of his neck as they made their way to the sides of his face. Your lips met once more, your hands cupping his stubbly cheeks. He pressed slightly harder into you, a hum escaping his throat; you felt wanted, you felt good, you felt loved. Lips opened even further this time before shutting together with a soft smack.

You wanted more, you wanted to be loved harder. Your head was empty other than joy, you liked this, you liked him.

You pressed your lips into his, not hard enough to make it awkward but enough to tell him that ' _this shit fucking rocks'_. He let out a huffy laugh, that vibrated pleasantly on your parted lips. Lips parted for a shorter period, you were both hungry for one another and didn't want to separate. Your lips met once more, moving together. Every time your lips shut together there was a small smack before you pulled apart for a split second, the sound making your heart flutter. You hummed contently, lips melded together, no longer parting when your mouths shut. They only grew faster, the pressure on your lips sending your brain into a whirl and your heart into a skipping mess, your fingers digging into his cheeks. A long kiss that neither of you pulled away from, not until you were both out of breath.

He only pulled back a few millimeters from your lips, both of you softly breathing. Your eyes opened dazedly as you watched him lick his lips. His cheeks were red and his eyes wandering your face lazily. The hand on your cheek softly glided across your electrified skin, pushing a strand of stray hair behind your ear. You let out a soft laugh, both of you thinking the same thing and leaning back in for more.

It began once more with a small peck that quickly turned into your lips gliding together. Opening with soft sighs and closing with a wet smack. Again and again, growing faster and pressure softly increasing as your grip on his face grew softer, your hands shifting to run through his hair. A soft flick of something warm and wet against you bottom lip had you softly gasping, finger clenching in hair. Brain let out a throaty chuckle, the vibration on your lips was addicting.

The flesh on your lips all those nights ago, the way The Operator made your skin vibrate, you forgotten about those sensations, everything in your mind was Brian and the way he felt against you. 

With another soft smack, your lips opened, the same pleasurable sensation flicked across your bottom lip. Longer and with more pressure this time, it had you humming, opening your mouth to give him more access to what he wanted.

**_Thud!_ **

"Hey guys, T-" The sounds had you both tearing away, you looking around Brian, Brian looking over his shoulder. " _Oh my fucking god. You too? Really?"_ Tim stood in the open doorway, looking exasperated. 

Your mind rushed back to you as you blinked dumbly. _What the fuck just happened?_

Your bottom lip was wet with his saliva, a deep red blush on both of your cheeks. You just made out with Brian for no fucking reason. Well, there was definitely chemistry there and a lot more than just a spark. You'd think about feelings and shit later, you were so embarrassed, caught red handed.

Brian lifted his warm hand from your face and other hand off the bed. He still sat on the edge of the bed, just looking a little less incriminating now. Tim still saw though. 

" _I thought you were supposed to be the smart one?"_ Tim was shocked, red faced, and scolding Brian. If you were him, you would too. Your mouth hung open, blinking dumbly at Tim. You couldn't fucking believe this shit.

"I am." Brian deadpanned, face still red but now expression flat once more. You glanced at him, literally how did he do that?

"Yeah, sure, dumb ass." Tim made a show of rolling his eyes, running a hand over his face, _"Anyways,"_ He let out a dramatic huff, changing the subject but clearly not over it, "Toby is stuck in the washing machine again. Can you uh," He clicked his tongue, eyes darting to your face, clearly seeing how mortified and very guilty of kissing Brian you were, "Can you uh, help?" He shifted his weight, stepping back. He seemed to be more embarrassed than you both were. He was always one for little to no affection, seeing two of his roommates making out must have been a complete shock to his repressed system. 

"Sure." Brian flatly responded, bed shifting as he prepared to stand.

"Okay," Tim grabbed the door handle, "Be quick because he's going to start screaming soon." He shut the door with a soft ' _click'._

You blinked at the door, eyes darting to Brian, who's back was now to you.

Why did he do that?

Tim was right, he was the smartest of all of you. He had his shit the most together out of all of you, yet he kissed your hot mess of a self. He could have pulled away anytime he wanted to but he willingly leaned into you. There was no danger, no heat of the moment, just friendly affection turned into something else. Something that you were into and wouldn't mind doing again. However, you'd like to sort your feelings and thoughts out before you have another dizzying make out session with him, it'd just leave you breathless. Literally and figuratively.

You don't just call someone cute and make out with them after being such a mother goose for so many days and _not_ be into them. The idea of someone like him having feelings for you was a mixed bag of emotions. You and Brian were in the same boat, one where you could both be open and honest about yourselves. There were no deep dark secrets that time and bonding couldn't bring out. You didn't have to hide yourself. You were both bad people but you'd have each other, that was nice. You really enjoyed yourself during the kiss but you had to stop and question your motives for accepting it.

You were a spiteful and strong willed person, if you didn't want to accept the kiss you wouldn't have. You're also a touch starved nutcase, you leaned into friendly touches like it was nothing. You'd fallen into a dark abyss and the men had been your only rays of hope, you clung to them desperately. Did you have feelings for Brian or were you just desperate to be loved? 

You needed some time to think, to be alone. Luckily for you, Brian was getting up to leave. You felt the need to at least acknowledge the kiss, that you had a nice time. The only way to further figure your feelings out could be more experience, later though after you figure out a few more things. 

Brian stood up from the bed, still not looking to you as he began to approach the door. He was just going to leave it at that, no explanation, no expression of how he was feeling. You weren't going to take that shit.

"So like," You took in a hissing intake of air as he paused, preparing to ask him the question, "Are you still mad at me?"

He turned his head to you, blush still prominent on his cheeks, _"Fuming."_

The words were as cold as ice, his face nearly expressionless. He was angry at your stupid choice but he was a lot more than happy that you were okay. He was making a show of being mad because he didn't want you to run off and challenge the eldritch twink ever again, make sure that you learned your lesson. 

You think you did in some ways; yet, you were still full of a hot rage and spite for The Operator. There was the threat of a dead dog and it hurting your boys over your head. That was it. You were resilient, strong willed, but you'd do anything to keep them from harms way. The boys could heal from the damage it would do but you hated the thought of them in agony because of you, it'd only drive you apart. You didn't know where you stood on the grounds of obeying The Operators every whim. You were still keen on the idea of an escape but you knew, it'd get messy. You didn't know if you were okay with messy.

He turned away, walking to the door, quietly opening it and leaving. He pulled the door shut with a soft ' _click'._ Mouth hanging open but a smile twitching at the edges of your lips. Your bottom lip still damp, lips sensitive, and a blush on your cheeks. That was nice.

With a sigh, you let your head rest on the on the headboard, putting your hands on your stomach. You could hear Tim's muffled yelling, Toby's cackling and loud ' _thud'_ s. You smiled at their unseen dysfunction, you smiled at the thought of your boys.

You're a fucking mess.

For a moment you fell back into your self hate and deprecation. You remembered Brian's words and your own sentiments about how to make it up to Sully's ghost. You did something awful but all you could do was move forward. You weren't alone. You had a support system comprised of your murderous roommates, your boys. Sully would want you to move forward, look ahead, not be bogged down by the memory of the weight of his flesh in your stomach. It was hard though. 

Why should you get to be happy when you just killed your best friend?

You didn't deserve to be kissed so passionately. You didn't deserve to have three people care so deeply for you, forming steady bonds so quickly. Yet you did. As a human being you needed social contact, you didn't need to be kissed to experience human contact though, that was a luxury. Yet you wanted more, so much more. You'd killed so many so that you could live, left behind the corpse of your kinda-ex and her shitty brother, the bodies of people you barely knew in high school. You'd made it this far but you still hated yourself.

Sully was aggressively wholesome and sweet towards you. Calling you a ' _sweet treat'_ and a _'delight to be around,'_ and other sickly sweet things like that. Saying all the right things, making you laugh, ogling at hot guys with you. He didn't deserve what he got, not in the slightest. Apparently the stick ruined his life too without your knowledge. 

You wondered if the boys terrorized him, if he was the target when they occasionally left on missions. You didn't know what you'd say if that was true. There were so many mixed feelings already swirling in your brain, you had to hold back the hypotheticals for now.

You wondered how long it was after him. You wanted to wonder if he actually loved you, saying it in the heat of the moment. But you knew without a doubt he meant it. Sully told everyone he loved them even smelly men who didn't love him back. He said it to you with finality, sincerity, and real love cultivated from years of friendship. 

You wondered what he'd say if he found out that you kissed Brian like that. Open mouthed with hints of tongue. If things were normal you'd stay up all night on the phone. Tell him every little detail, painting your nails ' _Stupid Whore Pink_ '. He'd be supportive, over the moon for you, be jokingly jealous. 

Sully and you both hadn't been loved romantically for a long time. It hit you hard that his entire life he chased so hard after love, always running after the wrong men. Dead people can't find love. He would never find what he was after.

You sniffed with a shaky sigh at the thought. The loud sound of lapping had you looking down. Through your entire encounter with Brian, Goober had been quietly eating your breakfast. You let out a giggle, smiling as your eyes watered. Goober would always love you, no matter who you were, no matter what you did. There was no complexities of human emotions, no stupid contradictions, just blind love. 

If Sully was a ghost, you knew he'd be haunting you. His transparent arms wrapping around your neck, whispering reassurances into your ear. You hoped that was the case, that he was with you, not just the bits of him left inside your body. 

He'd listen to you ramble about your thoughts. Let you chatter on about if you actually had feelings for Brian, for the others, or if you were just touch starved and desperate. Maybe all three had mixed, a perfect storm of fucked up affection. Fucked up or not, you wanted to be loved, you wanted to love. 

Sully may have been a whore but he was a hopeless romantic, looking on the bright side. Sometimes seeing love even when it wasn't there. He'd tell you that you had clear feelings for them. If you liked Brian, you liked Tim and Toby. Your relationships were all varied but you felt the same strong warmth for them. Crushes developing through bloody bonds and unfortunate circumstances. 

You wanted to love and be loved, but was it a good idea? Your circumstances were uncertain, The Operator could still have you killed anytime it wanted. Relationships could end, if you were a proxy and broke things off, it'd be tense and awkward. That'd suck so much dick.

If Sully were here he'd say yes, that you should enjoy yourself. If you died, you'd die being loved as fuck. If you lived, you'd be loved as long as you could be. Maybe for the rest of your life. That sounded nice. Eternal love. 

Kissing more boys sounded nice too. Polyamory with hot murder men sounded cool. Well, only polyamory if the boys actually felt that way toward you, you didn't want to be presumptuous. You were an absolute hot mess but so were they. You could all be a giant garbage fire of love and all that mushy shit.

Fuck, you should really talk to Toby about that night, the bloody kiss. You had a hunch that Toby had a little more than a puppy crush on you. He was always all over you, he was painfully obvious about his affections. He was affectionate with Tim and Brian as well though. He was an absolute cuddle bug, clinging to anybody who let him. You were his first choice, Brian falling second, Tim in third. He'd insist that he didn't care, that he hated cuddling. He was full of shit and it was adorable. 

You'd have to talk to Toby about how he really felt. You wondered if he was also desperate for love, using you as an outlet. You hoped if he had feelings for you, they weren't just because you were there and available, seeming easy. To an extent, being attracted to the idea and action of being loved was understandable but if this shit was going anywhere, you wanted it to be fucking real.

You weren't going to enter another loveless relationship.

You shouldn't be thinking about such juvenile things, kisses and love. Yet here you were. Entranced with an imaginary scenario where Sully was alive and listening to your talk of boys. It was as sad as it was pleasant. It was a horrible fate to wish upon the dead boy, but you wished he was being considered too. Maybe he was and you did the sticks dirty work. By being considered as well, you wished he was here too, being apart of your found family. Not having a closed casket funeral without any family to attend. 

You missed him. You loved him. You killed him.

Dead people couldn't talk but you knew he loved you. No matter how the boys felt about you, you'd always have the love of your dog and your corpse of a best friend.


	35. 34 - Figure It Out

It'd been three days since the kiss with Brian. Eight or nine days since you ate Sully. The grief fresh and the embarrassment of Tim walking in on you and Brian even fresher. It was nowhere near as horrible of a feeling. It was actually somewhat distracting, thinking about such juvenile matters for a few moments, forgetting about what you'd done for a few seconds. Reality always rebounded, sometimes it was awful, sending you into a scream filled breakdown or rushing to the bathroom to puke up the only meal you'd kept down. Other times it wasn't as bad, a weirdly apathetic acceptance taking over you.

Brian acknowledged the kiss, he wasn't shy about it at all. He'd blush a little bit every time you brought it up but he didn't beat around the bush. He had a great time, he knew what he was doing, but he was still really mad at you and was not going to do it again for a while. He did dance around the unspoken question of how he felt about you. That was fine, you didn't know how to feel about him either. Talking with him became more frequent, still rare, but better than him not talking to you at all, you knew he'd warm up eventually. He'd already removed the pillow that separated the both of you at night, but you still hadn't had the guts to cuddle up to him. He needed more time. 

Two days ago Brian gave the okay for you to walk around on your own. Every time you were in the kitchen, Tim always seemed to be hanging around the door, like a barricade between you and the outside world. There was an unspoken house arrest, you didn't try to go out yet but you had a feeling if you tried to leave they wouldn't allow it. Nature was cool and all but you needed as much positive human interaction as possible. You just wanted to be held, talk with and to your boys. Even if they were still mad, Tim didn't let up on the halfhearted insults unless you were crying. He'd put a hand somewhere on you, giving you firm pats and gruff words of reassurance. 

Cereal was for breakfast today, Brian was tired this morning, he'd stayed up all night on his computer. You had no idea what he was doing, well you did, he told you something about code but you couldn't process all the information he dumped on you. It was a lot and very detailed, too detailed and too condensed for you to remember anything at all, plus you hadn't wanted to interrupt his rambling, you liked hearing him talk. 

You shoved another spoonful of cereal into your mouth, tensing as you chewed, thoughts wracking you brain. Thoughts of Sully but for once it wasn't about his flesh between your teeth or how much you missed him. It was about what happened to him, his paranoia, the red strings connecting papers and pictures that all led to you. How long had he been like that? How long had he been dragged into the twig's bullshit?

"How're you holdin' up?" Tim spoke between sips of coffee. It'd been a slow morning, unusually quiet. Brian was himself, silently eating away. Toby was concentrating on his spiral bound notebook while messily eating. When he concentrated he twitched a lot less, his brows would always lowering ever so slightly. Lips pursed in concentration, it was adorable. 

Swallowing while holding back a cringe, you began, "I'm literally so awful, _but_ I don't hate myself as much." It wasn't by much but it was true. The thought of Sully's ghost accepting what you'd done to him. Thoughts of him telling you that he forgave you for tearing his throat out with your teeth. Your imaginary talks with him provided you with too much comfort, they were a vice you needed to let go. You had to forgive yourself, not just let your idea of Sully do it for you. "Also, question." 

"Shoot." Tim grumbled, you could feel that he wanted to roll his eyes at you, call you dumb for literally anything you asked. 

You spoke after eating another spoonful, "Did you guys do anything to Sully? He knew about the twig." You did your best to keep your voice unaccusatory. If you got hostile you wouldn't get any answers. 

Tim took a long swig of his coffee, eyes darting away from you; you hoped he'd been sleeping lately. You'd kick his ass if he had another seizure. 

"Tim and I stalked him." Brian informed you while Tim drank away, casually popping the food into his mouth.

_"You fucking what?"_ All desire for a peaceful discussion went out the window. You were hypocritically angry, you did much worse to Sully. The fact he admitted it so easily had you on edge.

"We stalked him." Brian repeated flatly with his patented blank expression on his face as you set your spoon down. You weren't feeling very hungry anymore. 

"What does stalking entail exactly?" You lowly growled. They stalked you at the diner but they also killed your neighbor, broke into your apartment multiple times, attacked you, and generally harassed the ever loving fuck out of you. Stalking with them wasn't just watching, it was a slow and torturous torment.

Tim gave you a stern warning look, brows knit and frown twitching onto his strong features. He didn't appreciate your tone but you didn't appreciate the idea of him terrorizing Sully. 

"He didn't know who we were," Brian began, probably not trusting Tim to keep calm, "But he knew he was being stalked by," He set his spoon into the bowl, making air quotes, " _Masky and Hoodie."_

Your lips pulled into a line, nostrils flaring with a huff. Where did Toby fall into that equation? Did he chase Sully like he had done with you in the alleyway? Toby seemed to be the wrong choice for more stealthy stalking, he needed to be always moving, always talking, his habit of popping his joints made him hard to miss. 

You lightly bit your tongue, holding back angry words. You wanted to hear what he went through in the most bare bones explanation. You just wanted to know what they did. You didn't need to know the gory details. 

"He was smart," The use of 'was' had your stomach dropping guilty, "He actually solved some of the code I left for him." Brian had a soft warm look in his eye, reminiscing about terrorizing Sully. You remembered the notes he slipped under your door, when you refused to take the time to solve them, he choked you out. You felt sick to your stomach, he knew you were hurting but here he was, getting the warm and fuzzies over Sully having functioning brain cells. About him solving his stupid fucking codes that probably told the poor boy he was going to rearrange his guts in the worst way possible. 

"He was a good actor ya'know?" Tim chimed in casually, setting his mug down with a soft ' _clink'._ Another use of 'was', another reminder that he was dead and buried. Another reminder that the boys weren't as soft as cuddly as you'd like them to be. You pursed your lips, your hands curling into fists, nails digging into palms. This was a casual conversation for them, what they'd done to the poor boy, your dead best friend.

Did they just forget about your grief? They spoke like something mildly amusing had happened at their office job. Had they momentarily forgotten how unokay you were with the whole murder gang shit? That you were still growing used to your new position. Or did they hope to somehow desensitize you to the whole deal by talking so easily about another human beings suffering? About Sully's suffering? 

Maybe the praise directed at the dead boy wasn't meant like that at all. It could be genuine praise, indirectly trying to make you feel better about Sully's achievement of impressing them, his stalkers. Trying to make you proud of him for being forced to solve codes and supposedly to act. 

No matter how they meant it, their words filled your blood with spite. Not just for the twink but towards them, towards Tim and Brian. You didn't know where to categorize Toby at the moment but he made no claims of tormenting Sully. He was hyper focused on his art at the moment, probably completely tuning the three of you out as he scribbled away. 

"Told him if he blabbed about anything that we'd kill you." Tim informed you with a soft smile, a sickening way of telling you that Sully had grit. That Sully dealt with the pressure of their presence while staying quiet. This was a fucked up form of reassurance. 

You pushed yourself to your feet, stool screeching on the tile as it moved back. " _Fuck you."_

"Excuse me?" Tim snapped, muscles tensing.

You didn't want human comfort anymore. They were sickening, they were terrible, and you were no better. You'd done worse, being a literal cannibal. You needed their comfort and presence but not all the time. Right now you needed air, you needed away from their stupid murder shack.

"I said fuck you." You weren't going to suddenly take back what you said. You meant it, fuck them. Fuck them for telling you that shit, you wanted to know what they did but you didn't need to know that he was a good actor, that he had to hide his terror. 

Tim snarled but didn't stand, at least somewhat holding himself back by his pity for your plight. You stomped over to the door, the unspoken house arrest could suck your dick. 

"Where do you think you're going?" Brian turned his head over his shoulder, his stool closest to the door. 

"Out." You didn't need to tell them where you were going, it was't like you had any idea where you were going.

"No you're fuckin' not." Tim stood from his stool as you grabbed the doorknob. Toby perked his head up from his sketchbook, finally noticing the scene playing out around him. 

"Yes I fucking am, _leader man_." You hissed out the nickname with a hateful venom, though you didn't didn't hate any of them. You needed all of them, you liked all of them. You just needed to cool off, be away from the confines of the cabin. 

"(Y/n)." Brian's even tone held a warning as you began to twist the doorknob, his eye brows knitted together and looking at you like an annoyed mother.

" _Brian."_ You hissed the man's name back at him, "Look assholes," Toby spun around in his stool, holding his notebook under one arm, "I'm going outside. I need some fucking space away from the ' _hehehehe, Sully suffered because of me'_ gang." You stated your intentions matter-of-factly, you didn't want to completely blow up at them and fuck up your relationships. Yet you were also sickened by them, it was a horrible contradiction but that's why you had to go to sort your shit out.

"(Y/n), you're not fuckin' leaving." Tim took a step toward you. He was irritated but not so angry that he was going to start wringing your neck. He was confident in his authority, in the fact that he could stop you so easily. He should know by now that you are stubborn beyond belief. 

You blinked at him with lips drawn into a line, continuing to slowly twist the knob. Brian made no moves to stop you. All he had to do was reach out a hand and grab you. He didn't, confident in Tim or wanting to respect your need for space. 

"I'm not going to do anything stupid, Timothy." You huffed out, feeling like a pissy teenager arguing with her parents over going to some shitty punk concert. Wearing black and a crop top that reveal an infected belly button piercing that you refused to take out 'for the aesthetic'. That wasn't the situation though, you were having a little fight with you murder roomies. Well, not all of them. Toby watched the whole thing go down with wide eyes. Only alerting you to his presence with the popping of his joints.

_"I don't believe you."_ His words cut through you, he didn't trust you. It was out of concern for your health but it was still a lack of trust. 

With an angry sigh, you tore the door open, "Suck my ass." You weren't going to try the twig's patience so soon.

The cool outside air felt refreshing on your exposed skin. The house had grown stuffy the past few days and you'd taken to wearing black shorts and (f/c) t-shirts. Tim bounded over to you as you began to throw yourself out the door. If he wanted to stop you, he'd have to chase your ass down. 

The grass was soft on your feet as you took your first step outside, head thrown over your shoulder looking at Tim. His approach was stopped by a hand slapping around his wrist, "Tim, let her go." Brian urged, "Toby, follow her." As the most emotionally levelheaded, he took charge of his companions.

You whipped your head back around, tuning out Tim's pissy complaints and insults directed at you. You were thankful that Brian understood your needs so well. You were still mad at him though, and he was still mad at you. You directed your attention to the forest ahead, picking a random direction and bursting forth through the brambles. 

"Hey, wah-wait up!" You heard Brian tell him to follow you, but you'd been hoping that you could lose the boy. You wanted to be alone. There was no way the boy could help you, none at all. 

You didn't shoot back a witty retort, if you wanted to lose him you couldn't direct him to your location with sound. Sadly, Toby probably saw which direction you ran and could definitely hear you running. It didn't help that you knew damn well that he was faster than you. That wasn't going to stop you from trying to evade him. You were feeling particularly angsty, particularly spiteful.

Dodging past trees and around piles of rotting leafs, you focused on the path ahead. You could hear Toby's loud approach, he didn't care to hide his presence, he was confident he could catch up with you. You were ahead of him but by how loud his footfalls were, it wasn't by much, he was going to close the distance and fast. 

A giggle ripped through the air, you couldn't tell if it was laced with joy, sadism, or both. You knew he greatly enjoyed the act of chasing people down, hurting them, much more than his partners. Now that you were friends and roommates you hoped that he wouldn't treat you like prey anymore. He hadn't at all, but that laugh told you he was really enjoying watching you run away from him. You didn't know if it was a giggle out of habit or if he still had the mindset somewhere in the back of his head that you were something to be toyed with. You felt that the truth was somewhere in the middle. Plenty of people are playfully mean to their friends, Toby was being playfully sadistic. Same shit, just way scarier.

"I'm gon-gonna get you!" Toby called out as wind whipped through your hair, low hanging branches scraping passed your arms.

His words only made you run faster, which wasn't by very much. The words sent a chill down your spine, they were reminiscent of his playful calls to you back in they alleyway. The one time he cut your garbage open and tore your clothes. Dickhead. 

You were angry at them and wanted to be alone. Yet Toby had supposedly not been a part of Sully's torment, that made him a little bit less shitty in your book. He was still chasing you through the woods though, giggling and calling after you. It had your heart thundering in your chest, instinct telling you that if he caught you he was going to cut you open. Your brain knew that wasn't going to happen, Toby cared about your health, Toby cared about you, he wouldn't hurt you. He was just having fun, being innocent but also a huge sadistic douche. It was kind of exciting to run from him and not be in any danger at all, fun. However, you weren't looking to have fun right now, you wanted to be alone.

You'd been running in a straight line for some time now, the trees had dispersed some and there wasn't much to dodge around or hide behind. Toby hadn't called anything after you for a few seconds. Suspicious.

**_Fwoosh!_**

Something whizzed by your side, missing you by only a few inches.

**_Thunk!_**

Buried inside a tree trunk sat a hatchet, clean of rust and blood. 

"What the fuck!?" You barked out, heart rate skyrocketing. You thought Toby didn't want to hurt you. You knew he was a little shit and enjoyed to spook you sometimes but this was on a whole other level. Did 'follow you', mean to have Toby break your fucking legs?

You couldn't run any faster, Toby's foot falls were growing closer and closer. They paused a moment, you assumed to rip the hatchet from the tree trunk. You whipped your head over your shoulder just as his arm jerked back, hatchet freeing itself from the wood. His eyes were on your retreating from, a grin spread across his face. He wasn't in his work uniform, he was in a black t-shirt and ripped blue jeans that Tim forced him to wear a belt on. Apparently they were a little loose around his thin hips. It was odd to see him with a hatchet in one hand and his sketchbook tucked under his other arm. It was odd to see the sweet boy that you knew looking at you with adoration and a sick enjoyment of your sudden spike in fear, seeming to cement that this was the same boy who killed Jen and the same boy who rubbed your back while you puked up your bestie.

"Come buh-back here _, mmm-maus!"_ He cooed, smile widening at the fear and confusion in your eyes. You didn't know if you should be afraid or angry. Both was fine. 

"No!" You barked at him, you felt like he was chasing you through that dingy alleyway once more. This time things were different, you'd been questioning your feelings for him as of late, you'd been growing closer as friends. There was something more there. 

You now knew he wouldn't kill you, he might hurt you, you were safe yet you weren't. The uncertainty was exciting and took your mind off Tim and Brian's bullshit. 

You turned your head forward as Toby began to give chase once more with a cackle.

"This isn't funny, Toby!" You yelled as your feet pounded on the uneven dirt, his footsteps only grew closer. You could hear his quick intakes of breath behind you. You knew he was just fucking with you, part of you relished in the oddly nostalgic chase, but you were still scared shitless. _"I'm scared."_ If you were truly scared for your life you wouldn't have told him that, you would have told him to suck your dick. You were scared at the aspect of being played with again, but a part of you really wanted to find out how he'd react if you finally admitted to being scared of him and his actions.

"But it's sssuh-so fun puh-playing with you!" The front of his ratty converse brushed against the back of your heel. His breath hot on the back of your neck, you swallowed a thick lump in your throat, he was practically on top of you. You didn't have anything but your fists to defend yourself with, if he tried it you'd beat his ass.

Arms jutted around from behind you, his arms. Each hand holding something, one a hatchet the other his sketchbook. His hairy arms swung around your torso, quickly caging you in. You gasped as you were forced to stop running, the arms pressing into your torso and lifting you from the ground. His chest pressed hard up against your back, you could feel it rumble with his laughter at the squeak you let out. He'd trapped you in a hug, holding a deadly weapon and a notebook full of doodles. 

He'd placed his head on your shoulder, stubble brushing roughly against your neck. Huffy laughter sending small vibrations from his neck into your skin. It had a shiver down your spine that wasn't unpleasant.

His laughter was infectious, wholesome, like he hadn't just thrown a hatchet at you. You let out a series of involuntary giggles, you couldn't help it, adrenaline filled body happy to be alive and mostly unharmed.

"Toby!" You called out his name between laughs, toes barley touching the ground below, you wanted down. 

If he was going to force his way into your company you'd rather be able to move of your own accord. 

_"Yes ssson-sonnenblümchen?"_ You could hear the amusement in his voice at your laughter mixed with desperation.

You forced out a grunt of annoyance, you had no idea what that meant. You knew it was some sort of pet name, a reminder of his obvious puppy crush. A reminder of your questionable feelings for him; but you came out here to get away from your feelings, away from them. Here you were, in Toby's arms, thoughts consumed by him and not how fucking mad you were at the others.

You had butterflies in your stomach but also a heavy pit. It was a confusing feeling and you didn't know if you wanted it to go away.

"Can you put me down?" You did your best to sound as in control as possible, he listened to Tim when he talked that way so you were hoping if you did the same he'd do as you asked. 

He hummed in consideration, hatchet lightly being twiddled back and forth in his fingers. You couldn't take your eyes off it, it's shiny blade reflecting an unreadable (s/c) face. His head shifted on your shoulder, stubble brushing against your goosebump covered skin. You glanced down, finding that you could see his smiling face on your shoulder, looking at the hatchet in his hand.

You felt your heart skip a beat when you felt a cold line of metal against your throat, you mouth grew dry and eyes wide with shock. The weight of his head lifted from your shoulder, still holding you against him and off the ground. His chest shook with soft laughter, you could feel hot breaths on the back of your ear. This was just like at the alleyway. Except you'd frozen up, not knowing how to feel. Toby's touch wasn't as rough as it used to be, he wasn't crushing you against him, he didn't let the blade sink even a little bit into your flesh. Toby was a cuddle bug but Toby was also fucking nuts. The dichotomy of his character was dizzying.

He blew on the back of your ear, strands of hair shifting with the action, _"Are you still scared of me?"_

The lack of stutter, the huskily spoken words spoken right against the back of your ear. Every syllable sending chills down your spine, your breath caught in your throat. 

Toby delighted in scaring people, hacking them into bits. He wasn't allowed to kill you but he could still hurt you yet you believed that he wouldn't. He was hazing you and it was pissing you off. Yet there was the welcomed proximity, your back melting willingly into his chest, your head falling back lazily against him. No matter how angry you were, your body craved the healing touch of another human being. You wanted to be alone before, be angry over a dead boy but now you didn't know if you wanted him to leave. The touch was comforting, terrifying, exciting, yet it irked you all the same. You were conflicted as fuck.

_"I don't know."_ You confessed in a hushed whisper. Your surroundings fell away, all you could think of was his touch, his hot breath, and his voice.

_"Good."_ Toby drawled word out, the cold metal slowly traveling across the skin of your neck. He didn't let it dig into you, you trusted him not to slit your throat. 

He practically confessed to enjoying your uncertainty. He wanted to feel like a strong protector, someone who kept you safe, someone who you could turn to. He also liked the fear that radiated off you when he lazily dragged the blade across your skin, you could tell. He liked holding you, talking to you, but he was also off the shits, being playfully sadistic with you. You weren't in any real danger, the idea was there, it got adrenaline pumping through your veins, giving you an unnecessary high.

The cold metal was suddenly gone from your throat, your feet on the ground. His arms around you lazily sliding away. Toby took a few steps, rounding your body. Sketchbook tucked under an arm, holding the hatchet in his opposite hand. Talk about mixed signals. 

There was a predatory gleam in his eyes, a smug smirk on his face, his gash shifting with his facial muscles. He was taking in your dumbfounded face with obvious delight, gleaming eyes darting all over your face.

You let out a huff, heart still thumping dangerously. You spoke as evenly as you possibly could, doing your best to scold the person who was stronger and faster than you, holding a hatchet, "Don't do that again, asshole." 

Toby's smile quickly shifted into something softer, a sweet giggle erupting from him. Eye creases lightly crinkling as he took a quick step forward. Your bodies were inches apart but not yet touching, knowing Toby he'd close the distance anytime now. 

He let out a breathy chuckle, leaning forward. You furrowed your brows, recoiling back an inch as he pressed your noses together. His eyes were a beautiful chocolate brown, his eyebrows messy and thick, one of them holding a small slit of a scar, his curly locks messily pushed across his forehead. You blinked, taking in the close up look at his soft features.

"No promises _zzuuh-zuckermaus."_ Yet another nickname you didn't understand at all. 

Being unpredictable as always, Toby quickly turned his head. Your noses no longer touching tips. Then a quick yet firm pressure was applied to your lips. Toby quickly pulled away, the peck lasted less than a second but he was grinning stupidly from ear to ear. His pale cheeks dusted pink.

"Toby," You could feel heat rising on your cheeks, "You don't just kiss someone after you do something like that."

You weren't completely okay with the sudden affection after he held a fucking blade to your throat. You wouldn't deny the odd excitement coursing through your veins, being in such danger and being let out alive was a dangerously addicting feeling. Being kissed right after, still hiding your wave of adrenaline, made it feel _really_ cool and fun. You may have felt great but Toby acted without knowing how you'd feel about the whole thing. Dick move.

You watched him toss the hatchet lazily to the hand that held his sketchbook in his armpit. His now free hand grabbed your non-dominant hand in a soft hold.

"Sssuh-sorry but I had to guh-get back at you sssuh-somehow." He tugged gently on your hand, looking to lead you deeper into the forest. 

Your body wanted to accept the touch but your mind spoke otherwise, still miffed about the whole ordeal. You tugged your hand back but his iron grip kept your hand in his. You gave up as your mind turned thoughts around your head. Tugging a few more times, halfheartedly because you still wanted to hold hands but you wanted to put up somewhat of a show of how mad you were. You appreciated the apology, you didn't get many of those these days but you didn't quite know what he was referring to when he said 'get back at you'.

"Brian ssssuh-said you kissed." He began walk, tugging you along, "You've been ignoring-ing me about _our_ kiss. Not ffuh-fair." He pouted dramatically as you fell in reluctant step with him. A completely one-eighty. He wasn't jealous about you making out with Brian, he was upset that you'd brushed him off so much. He wanted a kiss too. Another one. 

He'd just gotten one but you had a feeling that wasn't enough for him. He wanted you to return it like you had with Brian. You felt a pang of empathy, it wasn't exactly your fault that Brian kissed you. It wasn't something that you planned on happening, or reciprocating. 

"Toby," You were still figuring out how you felt about all of them, "It just kinda happened. I'm sorry I didn't acknowledge what happened with us." Toby perked up at your quick apology before you brought the fucking smack down on him, "But I swear to god, do that shit again and I'll kick your ass. Then ignore you for a fucking week. Don't test me." You appreciated knowing when you were going to be kissed. You weren't completely objecting the idea of being scared but not in any real danger either. It was sickeningly enjoyable. You weren't going to admit that just yet, even though you suspected he knew.

You should have said something to avoid any confusion but you also had a concussion, you were allowed to put romance on the back burner. Yet it was yanked to the front and center of your mind. It was a distraction, it wouldn't fix you as a person, but it felt good. 

Toby swung your hands back and forth, humming out a response, "Apology accepted." He regarded you with his usual sweet smile, your heart skipped another beat. At this rate you were going to suspect you had an arrhythmia. He tilted his head, curls shifting across his forehead, "And," He tacked on the statement as his sweet smile shifted to a cocky smirk, his eyes squinting mischievously, "Wah-will you now?" The rat bastard was challenging you as he snapped his head to his shoulder with a soft ' _pop'_. Setting you up into a verbal trap that only led to one outcome.

You willingly walked into it, for research purposes and because you really wanted to, "I could fucking destroy you, Toby." You spoke the words with a forced confidence.

He raised his brows, giving you a look of uncertainty, "Really?" It was like him asking if you were sure you wanted to go down this road. The road of testing him, pushing his buttons to see what would happen. You could deescalate the situation if you wanted to but you didn't.

You laughed, lightly pushing your side into his, "I totally could." You could not and you both knew it.

Toby let out a laugh, pausing you little walk. Lifting his arm, letting his sketchbook fall to the forest floor with a soft ' _thud'._ You were either stopping here for him to draw or he was going to show you what was what, or both.

He pulled you close with your intertwined hands. You bumped into his chest before leaning back, him turning his body to completely face you, still holding the hatchet. Hands intertwined and resting by your hips, his other hand brought the hatchet right below your chin. The cold contact with your skin shot panic through your body, but no pain came. It was the side of the blade that was in contact with your skin, it couldn't immediately cut you but if he wanted to he could move it further forward, open your throat out with little to no effort. Toby let out a huffy chuckle as you stared down the weapon.

"That's cute." There it was again, being called cute when you had a sinking suspicion you were about to be kissed, but this time it was husky and dark, making your heart skip a beat. The hatchet gently tilted your head up, your eyes darting from the blade that had your heart racing. Locking eyes with the boy who held it, the boy who gave you butterflies and rushes of delightful adrenaline all in one. His face was close, eyes half-lidded, lips slightly parted, you could smell his cherry chaptstick. You could finally tell that he was going to kiss you. He was in control of the situation way more than you were but you still shot your hand up, gliding around the back of his head, gently pulling him forward. You wanted him to kiss you, stop teasing you already, not wanting him to get too cocky about taking the lead. Not that you minded. 

He let himself be guided forward as your eyes fluttered shut. Your lips met and the forest melted away. There was only Toby and the cold metal tilting you head up. He pressed his lips into yours a bit too hard, you could feel his smile and tell he was quite inexperienced. You sat there for a moment, both of you basking in the glory of a mutual kiss. You parted your lips, hardly pulling away. As your lips met once more, his stubble brushed up against your chin. Letting you take the lead for him to figure out what the fuck was going on, you guided him along. Mouths slowly parting together, shutting, pulling apart with a soft smack then meeting once more.

Your hand traveled up his neck and into his coarse hair as you steadily increased the speed of your mouths. It wasn't very long before Toby somewhat figured out what he was doing, taking the reins. At first you were guiding you lips open, about to shut them once more. He wanted things to get a little more intense though, so his lips parted more than just a little open. You followed his movement with a content sigh, easily letting him take control. Lips quickly shutting with a smack, he didn't let your mouths part. Applying a pleasurable pressure that was a bit too rough, not that you minded, he let out a hum. Opening your mouths together, his lips slightly overtaking yours for a moment, getting his saliva all over yours. You let out a breathy laugh. He seemed to like how that felt, he let out a softly happy sigh.

You had to pull away, out of breath and his spit all around your mouth. It was a product of his clear inexperience and you wondered distantly if you were his first kiss. Chest heaving, lips buzzing, dopamine rushing in your brain you looked up to see the same awe in his face. Another kiss that left dizzy, happy, and hungry for more. 

But was it because you felt the need for intimate human contact or because you liked him? You'd dated in the years since Jen, you'd been around the block but no ones ever understood you like this. There was also the fact that these were the only people who would understand you, that made it so much easier to fall into a lake of conflicted feelings. Feelings that left you staring up at Brian's ceiling at night. Thinking about his lips on yours, thinking about the others, what they'd done, what you'd done. 

Having only each other and being a found family was one thing, but making out with two of your three roommates was another. Their kisses were passionate and didn't feel like they were just testing you out. There was weight behind their actions, they knew what they were committing to.

You felt bad not knowing for sure if you felt the same. There was a sinking suspicion in the back of your mind that you felt the same. Silly schoolgirl-esque crushes wouldn't be the right label for your feelings. There were lingering resentments there holding you back. You were one in the same, the fact that they were murderers didn't bother you as much anymore, you were one too. It was who they killed and the way they tormented you that held you back from being completely sure.

You wanted to brush all those feelings aside and make out with Toby for the next three hours, but you didn't.

"Do you like me or ssuh-something?" Toby lowly teased, hatchet still under your chin. His cheeks flushed a vibrant red, eyes seeming to glimmer as he watched you.

You hummed, considering his words with a smirk, twirling a strand of his hair between your fingers, "That's for me to know and you to find out." Even though you had an inkling you did, you wanted some time to figure out a proper response. A proper confession that wasn't making out in the woods. Even if that was a pretty rockin' confession.

Toby pouted, pulling the hatchet away from your chin. Letting his arm lazily fall to his side, "I know you like mmm-me." His words were confident, you weren't surprised. You leaned into his touch, listened to his rambling, were almost always eager to talk to him. It was probably painfully obvious to the others that there was something growing between you two.

"Maybe." You tutted as you stepped back from his chest, untangling your hand from his hair but still holding his hand. You needed to think, you'd happily accept his presence. You needed him to be quiet and his mouth off of yours if you wanted to achieve any cognitive thought.

"So," You blatantly changed the subject, "What'cha got in there?" You wouldn't deny that you were a bit curious as to what he was scribbling away so fervently.

Toby looked away from you and to the sketchbook he'd completely forgotten about.

"Oh!" He seemed genuinely excited to talk about his work, if not a little disappointed that you steered the conversation away from making out some more. He plopped himself on the forest floor with a soft sigh. "I've been doing a lot of doo-doodling mostly-ly." His hand lightly tugged on yours, suggesting that you sit. 

You gently lowered yourself to the forest floor, scooting closer to him as he flipped open his sketchbook. He rolled his shoulders back with a grin as you looked at his work. It always took a second or so for you to understand what was drawn. Every drawing comprised of odd shapes and squiggled lines. He drew a lot of bugs, nature, occasionally his roommates, including you. You were deeply flattered when you saw a doodle of you, little hearts beside your cartoonish face. He had it bad for you. You felt loved, it was nice. You wanted to feel the same but you still didn't know if you did.

Setting his hatchet into one of his belt loops, he pulled two pens from the books ringed binding. "I buh-brought one for you." He had to have moved fast, grabbing the sketchbook, an extra pen, and a fucking hatchet. He still caught up to you like it wasn't shit. 

You held out your free hand, thankfully your dominant hand, and let him gently press the pen into your hand. "Thanks." His gloved hand lingered on yours for a few seconds.

Reluctantly pulling away he flipped the sketchbook open, two blank pages, "I thought it'd buh-be nice if we dr-drew together."

You smiled at the idea, it was like a date. However your dates in the past had never chased you through the woods while wielding a hatchet. Your other dates didn't kiss as hard and roughly inexperienced, they didn't fill you with butterflies and adrenaline. Toby thought of something that you could partake in together, it was considerate and sweet. 

"I think I'd like that." You found yourself smiling softly up at him, lips still buzzing.

He didn't twitch as much when he drew, he was a lot quieter too. Occasionally mumbling, "That's not right." To himself or softly asking for your opinion. 

You found your mind wandering to the earlier events. You should have seen the boys' insensitivity coming honestly. That didn't make it entirely your fault that you learned what you did. Part of you was glad to know the truth, there was still something missing though. Something you couldn't quite remember, but something was off. 

You'd have to pry for answers later.

They weren't trying to upset you. They were so jaded by stalking and tormenting, that they momentarily let their facade of gentleness slip. They were still monsters under their human skin and you were a fool for letting yourself expect better from them. They were also grown ass men who should know how to deliver the news in a softer manner. You weren't making excuses for them when you realized their circumstances. Given their line of work, they were trying to pay compliments to Sully. He'd done well in their eyes, the eyes of expert killers. You still weren't very happy about the news but you were beginning to understand why they worded things the way they did. They wanted to fill you in and not leave you in the dark, but not upset you too bad. It backfired but they tried to cut Sully some slack, trying to gently deliver the news of what they'd done. They weren't going to shamefully hide away their sins, they'd bear them for you to see.

You understood, but you still needed time to cool off. You were appreciative that they didn't hide things from you. The cowardice of hiding things away, act like they were better people than they were; that'd just make you hate them so fucking much. They'd tell you all the gory details you wanted, if you'd just ask. Anything except for details about their experiences with the stick in the mud, twink bitch. 

You found yourself staring up at Toby, hand idly doodling his concentrated profile. You worked to the best of your ability which was pretty fucking (bad/good/okay). From his deep set eyes, to his button nose, to his soft lips, to his somewhat managed chin strap of stubble, your eyes carefully scanned them, trying to get the details as close as your ability would allow you. When you found out he was 'Rogers', your attraction to him completely fell away. Sure, he had the same cute face but the association of what he'd done made him hideous to you. Now that there were warmer memories associated with him, he'd grown attractive to you once more. Even more than before, because you knew him now, _really_ knew him, not the coffee shop asshole. He was still that person, but he had so much more to him.

His mental state was an absolute mess, but his partners helped him through a lot. They worked well in tandem with one another, helping one another through their garbage situation. You wondered what he was like when he first became a proxy. His mental state now was questionable already, he must have been a real train wreck. Murder mixed with all the mental shit he had going on probably wasn't the best concoction.

Murder was a coping mechanism for him but you had a feeling if he didn't have to per The Operators request, he wouldn't kill anybody, none of them would. That didn't take away from the clear enjoyment he'd gotten from it, you just believed he'd drop the activity if given the chance. No matter how much he enjoyed it, it'd eventually catch up to him, you knew how that felt. You wondered how bad it could get for him, how often he broke down over his sins.

Other than work, Toby was a sweet boy, trying his best. He wasn't the most considerate, often forgetting about the boundaries and feelings of others in his excitement. However, when things got serious, he was there. He'd rubbed your back while you vomited up your best friend. He did his best to make you smile in your misery. He basked in any attention given to him, especially positive attention, taking it in greedily like he never got much of it growing up. The poor boy pulled at your heart stings unknowingly, the dying empath in you felt for him. His murky past and mental issues didn't excuse him from anything, but it was good to know a rhyme to his reason. 

You were thinking about him a little too much. You'd sorted your shit out and now you were enraptured by him. You supposed that meant you'd caught feelings for him. That you felt the same. The other boys were much the same, not in personalities but their growth in how you viewed them. From monster, to person, to assholes, to people you couldn't live without. You weren't questioning your feelings towards them very much anymore.

You were questioning Tim's feelings for you though. Just because Toby and Brian were into you didn't mean that he was as well. He rejected affection, getting pissy when it was offered, he wasn't used to this sort of thing. If he did have feelings for you other than annoyance, you think you'd give him a shot.

Your hand stopped moving, you were done. Toby was still going, pen working away, interlacing triangles together in a confusing pattern that would only come together when the piece was complete. You would have been content to sit and wait for him to finish if you had more to think about. There was Sully, the fact that you killed him still weighed heavy on your mind. The guilt and anger would always be there. You were doing your best to accept it, you wanted a break from the guilt though. You wanted him to pay attention to you.

"Tobes." You called out while pushing yourself up from the ground, still holding his hand. Your ass was killing you, you had no idea how long you'd both been sat there. 

Toby's head snapped up from the sketchbook, shoulders rolling back, "Hm?" 

Stretching your free hand over your head with a sigh, you spoke, "I drew you, I hope you don't mind." You leaned yourself up against the rough bark of a tree you both had been sitting by. Letting your ass rest and being lazy at the same time. Excellent. 

He looked dumbly down to your page, he hadn't even noticed you realized with a soft laugh. You took in his expression with a soft smile, the sounds of crickets was barley noticeable as you realized the sun was going down.

"It's getting late, we should head back." You suggested, you didn't know if he was listening because he was staring at your work. Mouth cutely agape, brows raised, he really appreciated the gesture. 

You chuckled at him as he looked up to you wide eyes, _"I think I'm in love with you."_

His words were a quiet realization, one that caught you by surprise. You were just realizing and accepting your feelings for him but he was ten steps ahead, confessing possible love. You shouldn't have been surprised, you'd dated lesbians for a shorter period than you'd known Toby. Some wanted to get a U-haul and a cat after dating for a few days. You knew Toby better than you'd ever known them, you never thought you'd be calling Toby a U-haul lesbian in your head. The thought made you softly chuckle as he jumped to his feet. 

It was still jarring though. People had told you that they'd loved you before in a romantic aspect but it never felt true, genuine. Toby spoke his words with a juvenile innocence and complete conviction, like you were his first love and the love of his life. You knew he believed those words, but would it last? You found yourself hoping so, you wanted to be loved truly by another human being so badly. You wondered if you loved him too, it was a little too quick for you to be confessing your love as well but his words made you question your feelings, if they were deeper than you thought. You didn't know if you loved him but you definitely liked him enough to very easily fall in love with him, hard and fast.

"What?" You cracked a smile, you were shocked and flattered. You didn't know if you wanted to hear him say it again as a confirmation that you were loved or if you just wanted to check if your hearing was right.

Toby was on top of you in a second. Standing before you, one hand still holding yours. His free hand found your cheek, holding it tenderly.

"I think I love you." He softly repeated the words, looking like he was blown away by his own confession. You dumbly blinked at him, taking in the soft pink on his cheeks, you never thought his confession would be so tender.

Then again, he chased you down for fun earlier. You found it fun, somewhat, but he didn't know that for sure. You were smiling but you matter-of-factly stated, "Oh yeah?" There was a part of you, cynical and bitter that didn't want to believe it, she spoke through your adoration, "Then why'd you throw a hatchet at me earlier? You could'a hurt me, ya'know?" Your words came out more like a soft scolding than a way to softly push him away. Even the bitter part of you, hardened by being so unloved for so long wasn't enough to make you speak too venomously. You couldn't, not right now, that part of you shriveled away under his loving gaze.

His gloved thumb brushed back and forth on your cheek as he inched closer. You could hear your heart beat in your ears.

"If I wa-was actually aiming fuh-for you I would have hit you in the-he back of the ssskuh-skull." His breath was hot on your face, you couldn't look away from his soft lips as he spoke. His smile that delighted in your halfhearted fear. The words sent a delightful chill down your spine. He could hurt you if he wanted, hatchet hanging from his belt loop. 

It wasn't the most romantic thing he could have said after saying that he believed that he was in love with you but, it was reassuring. He really knew what he was doing earlier, you were in no genuine danger when he threw the hatchet. You found it hard to stay mad, given that you were fine, he didn't intend to hurt you, and you really enjoyed it.

The way he slid his tongue across the bottom of his lower lip had you feeling some type of way. His touch, his voice, _him_. You were going fucking crazy, faces being so close, you wanted him.

"Kiss me," You found yourself whispering.

You shut your eyes as he happily obliged, slamming his lips into yours. There was no long closed mouth peck, you were on the same page. Your lips opening together messily, no slow and tender start. Mouths closing together with a loud smack, his saliva already all over you. You didn't mind, kissing was kissing, no matter how messy. It was a little nasty but it was so Toby, and you fucking loved it. 

Your free hand threw itself into his hair, lightly tugging on his curls as your mouths opened. He let out a soft groan at the sensation, only egging you on to pull harder. The vocalization filled you with even more dopamine, his voice sending pleasurable vibrations into the sensitive nerves of your lips. It wouldn't hurt him but he could feel the sensation and apparently he liked it. He pressed his body flush into yours and you hummed happily at the contact.

Your lips were moving in a desperate tandem, sliding open and shut with loud smacks. It was only a matter of time until you wanted something a little more intense. The second your mouth parted, your tongue darted forward, sliding teasingly across his lower lip. 

Your back was harshly slammed into the tree, the bark digging through your thin t-shirt. You let out a gasp, giving Toby the perfect opportunity. His tongue slid over yours, his throaty chuckle at your surprise sending delightful vibrations through your nerves. You balled your fist in his hair as your tongues grinded against one another desperately, messily. He had no fucking idea what he was doing and it was obvious. You still let him take the lead, it felt good and you weren't complaining over a little spit, especially when he was moaning into your mouth.

Tongues returned to their respective mouths as your lips closed with a wet smack. Your tongues met once more, his quickly swirling around yours. Earning him a moan and another tug on the hair. Either at the hearing the vocal confirmation of pleasure or the hair pulling he enjoyed so much, he let out a breathy hum into your mouth. He pressed his lips harder into yours, tree bark lightly digging into the back of your head as his tongue pushed into your mouth, exploring it as he pleased. You moaned as your tongues ground against one another in a halfhearted attempt to regain dominance from you. The chuckle that erupted from his throat at your meager attempt at dominance had your head spinning with serotonin. You really liked that.

The loud buzzing of crickets filled your ears as you both pulled apart, red faced, and heaving. Hands still tightly intertwined, bodies pressed up against one another, a thin line of saliva connecting your sensitive lips. It was getting darker but in the evening light you could see how disheveled his hair was from your pulling. His eyes widely dilated, wild with excitement, soft lips parted and slick with saliva, he lowly spoke, " _Ich leh-liebe dich."_

 _"Huh?"_ You questioned, mind too muddied with thoughts of him to even attempt to think about what the foreign words meant.

_"I love you."_ It was a confirmation, not an 'I think', it was an honest to god confession. 

You spoke without thinking, "But you hardly know me." It was the bitter truth, you didn't understand how he could love you if he hardly knew you.

"I knuh-know," He wore a smile free of mischief, "But isn't tha-that better? I hah-hardly know you but I al-already love you." He was speaking softly, earnestly, "And I ca-can't wait to know you even-en better." He cracked his head to his shoulder as you processed his words.

Your heart soared like a motherfucker. High off his kiss, the adrenaline rush he gave you, his confession, being loved. You knew each other, understanding one another on a deep level. You didn't know one another's dumbest memory yet but you could learn, the future was laid out ahead of you. Uncertain and rocky but he loved you anyway. You'd never felt so loved by another human being, not even by Jen. You'd knew her for years, Toby did worse to you, but he stuck around through the worst, he could keep sticking around. 

You leaned forward, quickly pecking him on the lips. Pulling away to look into his chocolate brown eyes, you spoke with a smile, "I think I love you too." You weren't sure of your future, you weren't sure of love as your history with it was rocky at best. But you firmly believed that you just might have more feelings for Toby than you initially thought.

You were expecting a pout at your words. Not one hundred percent returning his sudden intensity. No disappointment was evident on his face though.

Arms wrapped around you, lifting you away from the tree and swinging you around as you let out a shriek. It was like before but more tender, you wouldn't mind if you got a little rough with you again though. Toby childishly giggled at the news, you let out a bark of laughter, looking at his joy stricken face. Love filled your body as he spun you round and round.

Toby informed you of some mildly horrifying new on your walk back to the cabin: you had a lip hickey. You both may or may not have made out a bunch of times on the way back, Toby figuring out that he could suck on your bottom lip if he wanted a moan out of you. It spurred him on and he went a little crazy. He giggled as you approached the cabin, telling you it wasn't that bad, it was just a barely noticeable spot of blue and purple near your inner lower lip. It was still a fucking lip hickey and if anyone looked hard enough they would notice. 

The door to the house swung open, Toby making a show of holding it open for you. With a soft giggle you walked into the house. No one was in the kitchen but someone, presumably Brian had left the lights on in anticipation for your return. 

"Jesus, took you two for-fuckin'-ever to get home!" Tim called from the living room, soft strumming that you'd heard outside ceasing. 

Toby dragged you through the kitchen with a smug grin. You passed the threshold of the living room with him, still holding hands. Tim sat in his armchair, wearing jeans and a t-shirt, not lazing about in his pajamas for once. His guitar lay across his torso, one hand on the instruments neck, the other ready to idly strum. Brian sat on the couch, leaning comfortably against the armrest, book in hands.

You spoke before Toby could, you needed to get an apology off your chest. "Tim, Brian." Tim was already looking at you but your use of his name had Brian looking up to you. Face even, he was probably mad. "I'm sorry about blowing up at you guys." You did feel like you owed them an apology but they owed you one as well. Both parties wronged the other in some sort of way, both parties should apologize.

"I'm sorry too," Brian predictably beat Tim to the punch of apologizing, "I should have chosen my words more carefully." He didn't regret telling you the truth and you were glad. You smiled at him, accepting his words. In return his face softened, the hint of a smile playing on his lips.

Everyone's eyes collectively fell onto Tim, who blinked dumbly under the sudden pressure to be a nice person. Letting out a very fake exasperated sigh, he sighed, "I'm sorry for being such a big dick." You were tempted to say 'more like little dick', but you were all trying to be mature adults right now. 

"Thank you boys." You spoke contently, knowing that was probably the best you were going to get out of the man.

"I'm happy you didn't do anything stupid," Tim continued to your surprise, "Especially with Toby around." He was referring to calling out The Operator.

"Well I mu-mean," Toby sounded incredibly smug, "We did mmm-make out a lot so." He shrugged, making a point that you both _did_ do something stupid together. 

Tim made an exaggerated sound of disgust, "I _did not_ need to know that, dumb ass."

"You're ju-just mad 'cuz you're gon-gonna be last!" Toby teased, tugging on your hand. You let him lead you to the couch. 

Last?

"Shut up Toby!" Tim snapped as you plopped down beside Brian, Toby leaning into you. "I'm not into _that_ idiot." His eyes were directed at you, words laced with venom, adamantly denying claims that made you chuckle. You hadn't completely sorted your feelings over Tim just yet. It was a mix of attraction, annoyance, and joy.

"Tim." Brian spoke evenly at the seething man. 

"I'm not!" Brian didn't need to speak further, Tim got what he meant and wasn't happy about it.

Brian let out a hum, clear with disbelief.

"(Y/n)." You turned to the man, so happy he wasn't being stoic with you anymore. A soft blush on his cheeks, warmth in his eyes. He was still mad you bet but he was probably caving to the idea of affection. Once your head was fully turned to him, he dipped down pressing a firm smooch on your lips, you smiled.

Then you let out a surprised yelp as Brian's teeth lightly nipped at the hickey, of course he noticed so soon. He seemed to notice every little thing about you. It sent a painfully pleasant shock through your nerves. He noticed and took full advantage.

"Brian!" You screeched out, pulling away with a red face.

He gave you a crooked grin, him and Toby chuckling at your embarrassment. 

"Ugh." You heard a soft wooden ' _thud'_. Tim set his guitar beside the armchair, standing up from the seat, "Get a room."

Deciding to tease him over his implied crush you smirked, voice rising to a high sing-song pitch, "How about yours?" 

Tim paused, cheeks and ears bright red. He grunted out, "Not in a million fuckin' years." He stomped toward the kitchen, not very hard, an obvious show that wasn't in earnest, "I'm going out for a smoke." 

When the door slammed shut, the three of you burst out into a fit of giggles. You felt great, well kissed, loved, held.

There was something else that weighed on the back of your brain that you pushed back for now, popping up suddenly despite your warm situation.

_How did Sully's mom die?_


	36. 35 - Bait N' Switch

You were about ready to lose your fucking mind. There was nothing on TV today except the weather and two hour long infomercials. You'd been learning excessively about Flex Seal and the godly Shamwow. The phrase ' _That's a lot of damage,'_ was deeply ingrained into your brain and you couldn't stop repeating it over and over. You needed a distraction.

Toby and Brian had headed out for a job late last night. It was comfortably domestic to give them a peck on the lips and tell them to be safe before they left. Toby cried for five minutes about it and Brian had to drag him out of the house. Smiling at you as you laughed at their adorable dysfunction. 

You didn't have to anymore as you were pretty much fine physically, but you still slept in Brian's room. It was nice to sleep next to another human being, have someone there just in case shit went awry, mentally or physically. Brian had removed the pillow barrier and even though you always started on your own side of the bed, sometimes you woke up cuddled up against him and your heart soared at the domestic bliss of it all. Your back rejoiced as well, sleeping on a mattress over lumpy cushions. Toby had whined about wanting you to sleep in his room. Brian made it pretty obvious that he didn't trust him to _'leave room for Jesus.'_ You cry-laughed at the statement for way too long while Toby was confused about what Jesus had anything to do with cuddling each other to sleep. The innuendo flying over his head. You had a feeling he'd been a sheltered kid, not well experienced with positive attention, and even less experienced when it came references and phrases that were more modern.

The soft strumming of a guitar alerted you to the fact that Tim was awake, perking up instantly. Meaning you had free reign to annoy the shit out of him. You slid off the bed, hobbling over to the TV and switching it off. The stab wound had healed up pretty nicely, you still walked a bit oddly, as it was unluckily the same leg you broke jumping from a cliff with Jen almost ten months ago. You knew you were probably going to be walking weird for a long time, but sometimes it was more apparent.

Pulling Brian's door open, the strumming grew in volume. Your eyes darted to the door that was slightly ajar. There was a melody being strummed, lazily stringing notes together. You wanted to hear something more cohesive, you never got to hear him play an actual song. If you wanted to finally hear a proper song from him, you believed you had to wait for it or you could just annoy him until he caved. 

You didn't care to attempt to sneak up to his door, he'd probably hear you and call you out. You weren't one for subtly anyway. The second you were in front of his door, you roughly shoved it open.

_**Thud!**_

The door swung open, slamming into the wall it sat beside, revealing Tim's room to you. The first thought you had was that you had never been in his room before, beside using the washing machine but you'd always avoided looking at his shit. The second was that he didn't know what a hamper was. Clothes strewn about the floor, a few empty wrappers sitting atop them. His dresser drawers open, revealing unfolded clothing. There was a short shelf of books by the door. Unorganized and not all of the books spines facing you, disgusting. On the opposite side of the room was his bed, sided by a nightstand that held a single lamp. By the bed sat the open door to his bathroom and the washing machine. 

You had the idle thought of, ' _damn bitch, you live like this?'_

Tim sat in the middle of his unmade bed, sheets thrown every which way, some laying on the floor. Cradling his guitar in his hands, looking up from the wooden instrument in annoyance at your sudden entrance. His hair shifting with the movement of his head, it'd been covering your view of his eyes when you first burst in. 

Tim regarded you with a frown, blinking and taking in your appearance, he began, "What?" 

You clicked your tongue, leaning in his door way, "No good morning? Rude." You were here to annoy him but you didn't want to completely cross the threshold into his room just yet. Out of a shred of respect for his boundaries, you'd wait for a cue to come in.

"What do you want?" Tim grunted, lowering his guitar in his hands. 

That was the exact opposite of what you wanted, you needed to steer him towards the idea of playing a song for you. Make him think it was his idea, "What'cha doin'?" 

Tim raised his brows, "Are you blind, deaf, and dumb or some shit?" The question was stupid but it was more of a common courtesy thing other than you wanting confirmation of what you already knew what was happening. 

You hummed, idly crossing your arms and one leg over the other, "Maybe." You weren't going to agree with his lightly biting insult but you weren't going to exactly deny the truth to it either. You were known to be a dumb ass.

"Hmph." Tim leaned back a bit, drumming his fingers on the guitars neck idly. That told you that he wasn't done playing just yet, restless fingers wanting to work away at something. "You just gonna stand there and stare?" It was an abrasive invitation to either fuck off or come on in.

You pushed yourself off the door, letting your arms fall by your sides and sauntered into his room. You avoided stepping on his clothes with your clothed feet, afraid to get your socks dirty. This motherfucker may have the washing machine in his room but it looked like he forgot to use it. Stepping over what you believed to be a pair of boxers, you spoke, "Does me staring at you bother you?" You let out a laugh, thinking of all the times he watched you like a hawk in the diner, "Because if it does that's pretty ironic." 

There was nothing else to sit on other than his bed. You stopped in the middle of the room, you didn't want to sit next to him just yet. You had to use a slow and careful approach with Tim. Too much too quick would lead to him getting pissy, which could be fun in theory but a pissy Tim wouldn't play a song for you. 

"Everything you do bothers me." He deadpanned, shifting the guitar idly in his hands.

His words held no weight to them, no genuine hatred, no sincere annoyance. You smiled, letting out an amused breath, shifting your weight from one leg to the other, "What about when I'm quiet?" Tim and you usually spoke in one another's presence, silence between you two was always awkwardly tense. If you weren't bantering back and forth, what was the point? Well, being around him was nice, you appreciated your fakely hateful conversations back and forth. You were both loud mouths, silence between you two was an odd occurrence and you both didn't know how to handle the quiet, especially if it got too comfortable. There'd been a thick tension between you, unspoken feelings of camaraderie and very spoken feelings of resentment.

Tim gave you a smirk, delivering the rude comment with joy, "You're annoying even when you don't speak." 

You clicked your tongue, putting a hand over your heart, "Ouchie, my feelings." Taking a single calculated step forward, "Well," You couldn't just let him win, let him get a jab in without a retort from you, "You're annoying when you're existing." It was fairly weak but you had to say something.

"What are you, a ninth grader?" Tim retorted, smiling at your poor excuse of an insult. He believed that he was 'winning' the encounter when in actuality you were letting him win, kinda. You needed him to feel high and mighty, building him up by letting him think that he was clever. When in reality he was dumb as fuck and you were manipulating him because you wanted to know if he sucked at music or not. God, you were sad. 

"What are you," You threw his words back at him, "A high school sophomore who thinks that they're better than freshman just because they're a year ahead?" He was acting like one, he always had been. He had a lot more over you than being a year ahead in high school. He was actually a couple years older than you and near the top of the food chain in your little murder posse. You were just the newbie, the newbie his roommates had feelings for. 

Tim huffed, letting the subject drop, "What do you want?" He asked once more, eyes prodding you for a truthful answer. 

There was no beating around the bush now, he'd pick up on your attempted manipulation. He may be thick skulled but he's not that dumb, he probably already caught onto what you were doing. You always played it up like you disliked him, when you both knew you didn't entirely despise his presence. You wouldn't burst into his room unannounced without a reason and he definitely knew that. 

The jig was up. If you wanted him to play for you, you'd have to ask nicely, as much as you didn't want to. "The guitar." You pointed at the instrument in his hands.

He glanced down at it, shifting it up in his hands slightly, like he was presenting it to you. "The guitar." He echoed your words, slowly, mocking your simple statement with a smile. "What of it?"

He knew what you wanted. You could tell by the smug look on his face that he wanted you to ask for what you wanted, nicely. He was hanging the idea of him playing a song over your head as a ploy for you to be nice to him. You didn't know if you should be annoyed at his antics or if you should make fun of him for wanting you to be polite to him, when he made such a show of not caring how you acted toward him. He did care though, he just liked to look like he didn't, it was cute.

With a roll of the eyes, you brought your hand to rest on your hip, "Play it for me." You weren't going to add a please just yet, even though being polite was like second nature to you. You'd only add it if you had to, if you did it'd be somewhat begrudgingly. You didn't hate the idea of being genuinely nice to Tim, you just hadn't really done it before so you didn't know how to go about it. 

"What's the magic word?" He tilted his head, dark hair shifting across his face. The smug motherfucker idly grazed his fingers over the guitars strings. You could just barley hear the soft notes, you really wanted to hear them, louder and more cohesive. 

You were bored, you wanted to hear what he could do. With a dramatic sigh you spoke with a fake contempt, _"Please."_

You were a bit annoyed but you figured if you gave into his request, you could bond. You found yourself craving his presence a bit more than the music he might play. If you were going to question your feelings for him, it'd do you well to spend time with him that wasn't you playfully at each others throats. It wasn't that you didn't enjoy the playful rivalry, you wanted to get to know him better, you wanted to get a good look at the softie under his rough exterior. 

He took his hand off the guitars neck, patting the space next to him on the bed. Not immediately next to him, roughly a foot away. You had a feeling he wasn't a very touchy person.

"That's better," He was looking awfully smug over one word, "You outta show me some more respect, ya'know?" He spoke at you stepped over more dirty laundry. He was very unsubtly asking you to be nicer to him, he wanted what you wanted. A chance to let your stubborn walls down, to bond over something that wasn't your playful hate for each other. He wanted to get closer too. You smiled at the thought.

"Show me some and I'll do so happily, Timothy." You turned, sitting on the bed, leaning onto your palms, legs dangling off the bed. Respect was a two way street, as much as you wanted to get closer to him, you wouldn't take him being a dick all the time without a bite back. You were willing to stop being an asshole but he needed to be willing to be less abrasive to you if he wanted a real chance at getting closer to you. 

There was a foot of empty air between you, but this was the closest you'd been since he sat his fat ass on your chest. He was willing to get close if it meant he could piss you off, but when it came to being friendly, he didn't want you anywhere near him. Being a foot apart, the possibility of him playing a song for you, this was a big step in the right direction.

Tim only briefly glanced at you, for a professional stalker, he was bad at eye contact when it came to talking in a more pleasant manner. He was used to looking you in the eye when he was in complete control of the situation, when he saw you as less. His actions were a silent admission that he wasn't going to try to be a dick, that he didn't see you as a target to mess with. He was going to be friendly so he was going to get bashful, have a harder time making eye contact. Trying to meet you eye as he spoke, "Fine," He had to look away already, he started with a begrudging tone but it quickly melted away into a more apparently casual manner of speech, "I wouldn't mind that."

You smiled warmly at the man, too bashful to meet your eye in the pleasant setting. He was awkward, bad at the whole being nice thing, but he was trying anyway. That was nice. You both stayed like that in a lull of silence, it was an awkward one where neither of you knew how to continue right away without being rude. You had to pick the words that weren't your minds first ideas, be genuine with him as much as you'd allow yourself.

You clicked your tongue, breaking the silence. "So." Tim looked up from the guitar he cradled like it was his baby and to you. Rough and hard features making an expression of soft surprise, "Do you know any songs?" 

Tim mulled over his words a moment, probably pushing back an answer that was something along the lines of, ' _of course I fuckin' know some songs, dumb ass. You think I just have this thing for show?'_ Tim pulled through on his promise to be a nicer person, "Yeah." A short answer but one that didn't berate you. He continued, having to look away, "A lot actually."

That piqued your interest, it was an unlocked door to a room of questions about his hobby, questions that'd earn you a better look at him. "Got a favorite?" You'd start with something simple, then maybe ask about his past, when he started to learn. 

"Yeah uh," He idly adjusted the guitar in his hands, a nervous fidget perhaps, "I don't really have a favorite song. If I like the song, I learn it." He let out a sigh, maybe reminiscing on days of the past, before all this shit. You wondered if he had any friends he played music with. You wondered if he used Brian's computer to look up new songs, sit in his partners room for hours, trying to strum along until he got it right.

You hummed, nodding your head, "Got any songs you like to play more than others?" You pushed the idea of him preforming for you once more. Pretty much rewording your earlier question of his possible favorite learned song. "Any that you'd to play for me?" You batted your eyelashes at him as he glanced your way once more. You felt that if you weren't very forward with him, the interaction would go nowhere and you'd sit in awkward silence for an hour, no music being played. 

You were expecting something incredibly mainstream rock or eighties grunge. Stuff like The Rolling Stones, Pink Floyd, maybe some Kurt Cobain. Some very normal white dude who went to a community college and thinks he's special for not liking modern music type of shit. Instead he somewhat surprised you, beginning to slowly strum some cords you hadn't heard on your car radio. 

You raised your brows, loosely kicking your feet back and forth in anticipation. 

He didn't make a comment to show his annoyance at your insistence. He didn't shoot you an angry glare, he let his hands do the talking. Maybe he didn't trust himself to open his mouth again. Yet he did speak once more, you could barley hear him as he started to sing.

_"I was on the outside, I was looking in, Like a deer in the headlights."_

You expected him to maybe play a few cords but you weren't expecting him to begin quietly singing, looking away. If he wasn't used to being nice to you than he was even less used to singing for you. You found yourself grinning at him, showing you a part of himself you'd yet to see. A part of himself that he was bashful over.

_"Stuck in slow motion, like I was on the turnpike, no ability to steer."_

For such a control freak, he was singing about a loss of control. You wondered if he learned it because it resonated with him, his helplessness to The Operator. Tim didn't seem to be that deep though, probably just learning it because it was cool and fun.

_"Can't shake the feeling I'm starting to disappear."_

It took the first few lines of lyrics for him to gain the confidence to sing louder, just below average talking volume. Not his average, he talked louder than anybody you'd ever met.

_"I'm weighed down in this city, it's hard to live here, and I've been feeling restless."_

He was comfortable with you somewhat. Seeing his partners being so comfortable with you despite the fact that you were new and may still die might have shaken his initial desire to keep his distance, he seemed to cave for his companions. They were his soft spot.

_"There's this battle raging in me, don't want to love you anymore, but I can't help it."_

Something you didn't expect to learn about him was his old romance with that Jay character. He didn't seem the type to fall in love, but that was before he was here. You wondered what he was like back then. If you two would have got along better, if he was like you before all of this. You remembered the way Brian softly said you reminded him of Tim, the way Tim blushed, squawking at the thought.

_"I was on the outside, like we were at the cinema, your face was hidden."_

You'd never know, the only Tim you really knew was the one next to you. The murderous asshole who was exposing a softer side to you. The murderous asshole you were growing a bond with. He glanced up to you, checking if you were listening, brown eyes soft. When your eyes met you gave him a warm smile. He quickly looked away, eyebrows furrowing stubbornly, cute. 

_"Behind the camera, I think I love you, more than I'd admit."_

His voice softened at those lyrics, singing with a small frown, eyes downcast and paying attention to his hands. His singing voice wasn't much different from his normal voice. It was more like soft speaking, drawling out a few words to match with the songs tune. It wasn't the best you'd ever heard but it was far from the worst. 

_"And I was not prepared to be seeing you like this."_

The way he looked lost for a few moments, voice slowing for a few moments before picking itself up to catch up with the melody his fingers played. The song had some significance to it. You hand an inkling it reminded him of better times. He didn't have to choose a song that kicked up bittersweet memories, yet he did. Was it a show of trust? Playing a song for you was exposing himself already but him singing a song with clear emotional weight behind it was being even more vulnerable. You honestly didn't think he had it in him to do that. Maybe it was subconscious, some part of himself didn't want to hide.

_"And I'm weighed down in this city, it's hard to live here, and I've been feeling restless."_

What you supposed was the chorus popped up once more as he glanced to you again. He allowed himself to hold your gaze a few moments longer than he had before. Scanning you for a reaction. Leader man was looking to you for validation. Something to show him that making himself vulnerable wasn't a mistake. 

_"There's this battle raging in me, don't want to love you anymore, but I can't help it."_

He wasn't as much of a physical person as you were but you scooted closer to him with a warm smile. You didn't let your legs or sides touch, as Tim was like a stray cat. Too much affection too quickly could scare him off. He didn't move away from the slight advance, he paused his singing for a millisecond to process the quiet act of tender acceptance. He continued, the hint of a smile on his lips.

_"And between you and me, this city's slowly poisoning me, and as I rip into it's scales."_

It wasn't fair in all honesty. Him opening up, willing himself to be nicer to you, it made your heart flutter the tiniest bit. It wasn't like you hated his abrasive side. Though you never admitted it, his comebacks were usually quite well thought out, he had a sharp tongue and you loved that about him. He was witty, funny to an extent, and always willing to give his partners a dose of tough love. His rugged exterior could rub you the wrong way at times but without it, Tim wouldn't be Tim. You liked the Tim you knew, were growing to know.

_"It rots beneath my fingernails, and when I try to claw out of the pit, all I do is get sucked back in."_

You wondered if he was forced to build up his rough exterior, a forced persona, a mask, to help him get through his situation. You hoped that he was okay as he could be, he'd gone through a lot and you didn't like the idea of him suffering. The idea of him isolating himself and suffering where you and the boys couldn't reach him.

_"Don't want to love you anymore, but I just can't help it."_

He looked up to you again, singing of love that just wouldn't go away. He looked dumbfounded when your eyes met. He slowed his singing, too preoccupied to keep up the songs original tempo. You both getting lost in one another's eyes. They were beautiful, wide with a sort of surprised wonder, a dark seemingly endless brown. A few strands of hair had fallen in his face but they luckily didn't obscure the wonderful view. Lips barley moving as he murmured out the lyrics, not looking to the guitar, strumming out the cords with a somewhat clumsy muscle memory. 

_"And I'm weighed down in this city, and I've been feeling restless, there's this battle raging in me."_

They say the better you know a person the more beautiful they are to you. You could testify to that claim. Though, when you thought he was a normal dude, you thought he was hot. Then you found out he was a complete lowlife bastard and you looked on at him with disgust. Now though? Wow. Thick brows and sideburns were his most noticeable features at a glance, which were nice but he also had very nice lips, a sloping regal nose. Somehow really nice skin, a broad face with softly prominent cheek bones. He'd slowed the plucking of guitar strings down to match with the way his voice had lagged behind the original tempo. Adapting to the change that came with looking into your (e/c) eyes. It was sweet, he wanted to stare into you and provide you with a pleasant musical experience. He was a lowlife bastard but he was a caring lowlife bastard.

_"Don't want to love you anymore, but I can't help it."_

To you the song was more about him showing another side of himself to you, not the music itself. It started as something that shallow then it pleasantly developed into something deeper. You both stayed still a moment, the guitar strings softly ceasing their vibrating, letting a soft dissipating note hang in the air for a few moments. 

Though you didn't want the quiet moment to end, you knew it'd just keep going till it got awkward. So, you took yours weight off your hands and softly clapped. "That was a lot nicer than I expected." You didn't mean for your words to come out like that, sounding so rude. Like you expected him to be awful, you kinda were but you weren't going to openly admit that just yet.

Blinking, Tim huffed, seeming finally able to move, "What's that supposed to mean?" 

You felt like you really put your foot in your mouth. If Tim believed you to be insulting him, he just might revert back to his usual self. Not that it was a bad thing, you just wanted to explore this side of him a bit longer.

"I underestimated you," You admitted, softly beating around the bush that you though he would suck, "You're good, as a person and at guitar." He wasn't a good person by societal standards. By good you meant nice to be around. You threw the compliments at him in hopes he wouldn't back off. There was also the obvious want to compliment him because it was true.

He shifted his gaze away from you and to the guitar which he shifted in his hands, drumming his fingers on it absently. "Don't get mushy on me." Spoken like a true hard ass who didn't know how to take a compliment. 

In your eyes he deserved the praise, for being good company, playing you a song. He was going to get complimented, like it or not, "I'm all about being mushy." You proudly admitted, not like you needed to. It was blatantly obvious how bat shit crazy you were over being loved. "And even if I wasn't, I'd still say that shit because it's true."

With a sharp exhale he looked back to you, wearing a more neutral expression. He couldn't hide the faint blush on his cheeks, he was really easy to fluster. "I don't deserve those kinds'a things being said about me."

On one hand, you'd saved the moment and kept Tim being open with you. On the other his walls dropped further, self deprecating which was something you'd never thought he'd do. His ego was apart of his 'big man in charge' act. You wondered if he hated himself. You weren't going to have it, he deserved to be happy and love himself.

"But you do!" Tim looked confused at your sudden yell of affirmation, you continued, "You're strong and capable," You knew that from the experience of having him hunt you down, "You look out for everybody, even Brian who tries super hard to be the mother goose." You laughed, though Brian seemed to have his shit together, he probably didn't. Anyone in your situation wouldn't be completely sorted out. Tim would take over things for Brian at times so the man wouldn't overwork himself, he was looking after the house caretaker. Which must be a Herculean task. 

"You're witty and funny." Last week you wouldn't be saying this shit to him at all. You wouldn't dare admit your admiration for his sharp tongue. Now you did so without shame because he deserved a pick-me-up. It was also all true and you wanted him to know your genuine opinion of him other than annoyance. Throughout your rambling a voice in the back of your mind was screaming that you had feelings for him, you didn't tell it to shut up because it too was true. Hearing yourself say all those things aloud, him being down to earth with you, it all added up to your heart fluttering and you gushing about him to his face. 

"You're cute!" The words slipped indiscriminately passed your lips, your brain allowing it because it was a compliment over something that might have him back off. 

You ceased the flow of compliments, afraid you've overdone it. He was regarding you with confusion and a soft blush. An awkward silence fell over the room, neither of you moving aside from your steady breathing. 

"Thank you." Tim was subverting all you expectations and shallow predictions of him today. Giving you words spoken softly, he was floored by the truthful yet flattering compliments. You smiled, happy to see him take the words of affection. "I think that you're," He paused with a sigh, almost like he was steeling himself to be completely genuine with his opinion of you, "Fan-fuckin'-tastic."

You let out a giggle, subconsciously leaning towards him. He didn't seem to be as good with words, you weren't expecting a list of the things he liked about you. His crudely worded compliment was enough for you, letting you know of his all around approval of you as a person, as a roommate, as a partner. 

"Anything else?" You teasingly fished for compliments. You knew that being 'mushy' for so long might be uncomfortable for him so a change of pace would be nice. It'd be a little more joking but still soft, satisfying both your needs. 

He let out a breathy chuckle at your attempt to scoop more words of affection from him. He laid his guitar against the bed frame, done with music for now. He was more about you right now. "Don't get greedy on me." 

You had no retort to his comment about your greed, you were greedily taking his attention and you weren't ashamed of it. You weren't touching but your body was hovering inches from his. His weight sinking into the mattress around him, pulling you in. You could move away anytime you wanted but you didn't, you liked being pulled in by him.

Without thinking, once again, you admitted, "I think I like you." You spoke with a laugh and a soft smirk, like saying the romantically charged words were a reluctant compliment. You didn't try to act like it was a forced compliment, it just felt like being playfully rude was your thing. Adding that into your admission made it feel more personal, genuine.

"I-" By his raised voice and slightly hardened look, you had the feeling he was going to self deprecate his way out of the situation.

You weren't having it. "You deserve to be loved Tim." You didn't exactly believed that you loved him but you did have feelings for him. Feelings that could develop into love very easily. 

_"Loved?"_ He said the word softly, quietly, like it was something that he shouldn't say. Something he was afraid of, mystified by.

"Yeah," You leaned around his torso, growing closer but not yet touching, looking up to his face partially hidden by his long hair "Loved." He had to have understood that by loved you meant him accepting genuine affection, compliments, and validation. Not just the romantic aspect of love though the idea was there, you put it blatantly on the table unabashedly.

You could tell he was processing the information, his mouth slightly agape and eyes wide. He wasn't expecting this kind of affection, validation. Blinking, he took his eyes off yours, flickering to your lips. Seeming to finally notice the proximity, he didn't move away, he just kept staring. You weren't one for patience all the time, you'd take lead, show him some love.

You leaned slowly, giving him ample time to move away if he wanted to but he didn't. He began to inch closer as well, you let your eyes fall shut as you turned your head. You smiled, feeling his hot breath on your lips. 

You could tell your lips were just about to meet when he spoke, tone matter-a-fact, _"I killed Sully's mom."_

Eyes snapping open, you recoiled away from his face at the words with a look of disbelief. He was so sweet and caring just now. He'd switched from that to showing you the monster that lived beneath his human skin once more, trying to push you away and succeeding.

" _What?"_ You didn't want to believe him, confused about the flip of the switch that was his demeanor.

Every syllable was carefully articulated, "I killed Sully's mom." He repeated, lips in a twitching snarl, gaze hardening. 

You pulled your body away from his to stand. Lips in a frown, you let out a fake laugh, "God," Hitting yourself on the forehead, you continued, "I'm such an idiot." You shook your head, anger taking hold, wiping away you earlier sentiments about Tim. You knew he was an awful person, you'd seen him kill people. You could brush it aside due to circumstance and a feeling of necessity.

Every time they reminded you of what they were you'd accept it, take in stride because you were also shitty. Yet this something he'd left out for way too long. His words reopened your guilt for Sully, how you dragged him into The Operator's bullshit. It was your fault he was stalked, that his mom was dead. Her killer right before you, her killer that you were about to kiss like a lovesick fool.

"You are." His words were spoken harshly, coldly. Completely different than how he spoke earlier, the voice of the masked man who stood outside your door and taunted you. His walls were up again, thicker and rougher.

That was fine. You didn't want to get close to him anymore, he was fucking disgusting. Pulling that shit on you at the worst possible moment, waiting to use it like some sort of fucked up emotional ammunition. You didn't doubt that he would have told you sometime soon, you'd still be angry and disgusted with him. You weren't over him and Brian stalking Sully, tormenting him. You'd be upset about that for awhile but you believed being pissy about it wouldn't help anyone. Further damaging your relationships in such hard times was a bad idea. This was a whole new low though, killing a sickly old woman, a helpless bag of skin and bones.

He started it, he pulled this shit in such a delicate moment, he did the initial damage. You were fine with making it worse. Scoffing you spoke, not appreciating his agreement with your self deprecating comment, "Says the asshole who killed a helpless old lady." 

You don't know if this was some fucked up form of hazing or if he hated himself so much that he used the moment to hurt you as much as possible. He didn't want to be loved that fucking badly, pathetically lashing out at you. Emotional self harm or not, he hurt you purposely and willingly, and you were not going to take that. It wasn't your job to deal with his childish outbursts.

"Yeah," He nodded, bed creaking as he stood, your heart started to pound, "I'm an asshole who killed a helpless old lady. She couldn't fight back ya'know?"

Your stomach churned at the idea of learning more details of her death that was partially on your hands.

"Shut the fuck up." You barked, standing your ground. You weren't going to run away from him like he wanted you to. You were going to get in his face about his shitty actions.

Nostrils flaring, he took a step forward. You both were close already, only a foot apart after you jumped up from the bed. Hiding behind his mask, he had newborn confidence, a faux haughtiness that let him see you as lesser.

"She was completely unconscious. Not surprising after what I did to her." His snarl was forced into a smile, a hatefully sadistic spark in his eye. Did he enjoy hurting you or was this more about hurting himself? Either way he was a pussy. Too much of a coward to tell you earlier, so he told you now to hurt you both in the process.

"I said shut up!" You voice rose angrily, fists balled at your sides. You felt like an idiot, a circus clown. How could you have forgotten the suspicious circumstances? That night when she was admitted to the hospital she was attacked, it was raining. Tim came into the diner late and soaking wet. He fucking chased the poor woman through the cold rain. A few minutes later Sully hauled his ass to the hospital and that was the last time you saw him in person before you ate him.

You understood it was all part of the job. He had to hurt her, to kill her as per the twig's request. Or Sully wasn't fully complying with their demands, so they hurt her to keep him in line. It didn't matter what the circumstances were, it made you angry all the same.

A lot happened that night, Tim betraying you, you setting him on fire. The next day you were kidnapped, it was somewhat understandable that you let it slip away from you. You still felt stupid. You should have known it was one of them. You wondered when he did it, if he drove all the way back up to Indiana to kill a poor old lady. If the twig took him over and had him there in the blink of an eye, like what you assumed he'd done to you. You didn't just drive or run a couple hundred miles, kill a man, and come back home in such a quick period of time.

"She was scared." He hauled his body closer, his bare feet grazing yours, looking down at you with a growl. You were filled with rage, he didn't have to keep going, you got the point. You understood he was terrible and unwilling to be loved, not like you wanted to show it to him anymore anyways. He wanted to completely break down the relationship you built, douche. "She was a really slow runner. Could hardly call for help," He spoke with a faux compassion, raised brows and a sickly sweet smile, "It was fuckin' hilarious when she tripped over her own feet. She begged for mercy," He lowered his face close to yours, hot breath feeling sticky and disgusting on your face, "I laughed at her, then hit her over the head with a rock." 

Your stomach churned violently, she was completely helpless. " _How dare you? You fucking dog."_ You may have been a dog lover but Tim was acting like an animal, a stupid one. He really was more akin to a feral cat. You got close, tried to him love. In return he bore his dirty fangs with a hiss.

Your statement only egged him on, completely determined to shatter your relationship, "I went back a few days before he died." At least he had the courtesy to not bring up your forced act of cannibalism in graphic detail, for now. "He was a _complete mess_ but at least he had his mommy." Tim spat cruelly with a forced smile, you felt hate boiling in your blood, it was like he was Masky taunting and torturing you all over again. " _And then I slit her throat."_ He brought his fingers up, you refused to flinch away from him, show him how terrified you were of him, his sudden aggression. He pressed a thick finger to your neck where your pulse hammered against it, and dragged it across the front of your throat. A demonstration of exactly where he cut. You felt sick, like you were going to vomit. If you did, you hoped that you could projectile vomit on him.

An involuntary shudder wracked through your body as he quickly flicked his finger off your skin. You couldn't believe you wanted to willingly touch him earlier, his touch wasn't welcome now, making your skin crawl with hatred. _"You fucking disgust me."_

His face was close, you cringed at the proximity. He opened his mouth and continued his verbal assault, going too far. _"Says the bitch who ate her supposed best friend."_

The second the words left his lips, your fists uncleaned into open palms. Your dominant hand flew through the air and made harsh contact with his skin.

_**Smack!**_

You didn't give a shit about the disgust that shot up through your stinging palm at the contact with his skin. His head snapped to the side with the aggressive force of your palm. A red imprint slowly appearing on his cheek.

" _FUCK YOU!"_ You screamed with bared teeth, your vocal cords screaming.

He'd been going for dirty hits but that was a low hanging fruit that he decided to go after because he knew it'd hurt you, push you away. You didn't fucking care how much he hated himself, he shouldn't have brought that up. The wounds fresh, the guilt so intense it brought you physical pain, tears prickling at the corner of your eyes. He had no right to pick a fight in the first place but him throwing the idea that you were worse than him rubbed salt in your wounds. You were one in the same but you didn't need a fucking reminder that you were a cannibal.

Tim snapped his head back into place, angry snarl twisting into a sickening grin, "It's all part of the job, baby! Don't get bent outta shape about it!" He forced himself to growl out his words in a terribly friendly tone, making light of his horrible actions, reminding you of the cabin and the porcelain mask staring blankly at you. Acting like all the horrible shit he'd done, that you'd done, was excusable at the drop of a hat. The flawed logic saying that; you had to kill therefore it wasn't a big deal how you went about it, you could be as terrible as you wanted and it didn't fucking matter. He was trying to act like this was some shitty dead end office job, trying to make you hate him. 

You didn't know if you truly hated him deep down but at the moment you hated his guts.

Snarling through grit teeth, spitting out every word with clear resentment, "Don't call me that."

You didn't appreciate anything he was doing but the pet name was an added insult. A false sweet nothing that reminded you of your stupid attempt to kiss him, you regretted it.

He tilted his head in mock confusion, dark hair shifting across his forehead, "I thought you'd want me to since you're so adamant about having _all of us_ wrapped around your little fuckin' finger!" He spun a finger in a circle as he hissed out the words. You ignored his implied feelings, you didn't give a shit about his feelings, not anymore. He didn't deserve your care, your touch, your love. 

"So sorry that I need love and comfort!" You spat out the faux apology without any shame. There was no shame in wanting to be loved. "Sorry that I accept it wholeheartedly instead of being an emotionally repressed dickhead and pushing everyone away like a coward!" You called him out on his bullshit, with a nose scrunched in disgust. He was the one who should be ashamed of pushing you away so harshly all because he was scared. He was the one with the problem, you may have been a cannibal but you owned it. You were a cannibal, you fucking hated yourself for it, you weren't going to hide away from the fact. You weren't going to lash out at other people because you hated yourself, that was some cowardly shit.

" _You fuckin' bi-"_

 _"Timothy Wright, (Y/n) (L/n)."_ Brian's voice boomed over Tim's angry growl. Your heads snapped to the open doorway.

Seeing the man with crossed arms standing in the doorway, in his ratty work uniform, gun slung onto his back, made your stomach drop. His mask pushed up to his forehead, light speckles of blood splattered across his chest. His voice changer must have been switched off, him wanting to talk to you two as Brian over Hoodie, as adults. Yet you couldn't do that, the blood on him reminded you of the fucking monster that he was, that you all were.

You hadn't heard him come in as usual. You assumed Toby was still out as he usually announced his presence obnoxiously. 

Your stomach was flipping and turning over itself. You were no better than these assholes but god, you needed some fucking space. You didn't care to talk about your feelings and hold hands in a little circle, singing kumbaya. 

You huffed, pushing yourself away from Tim and toward Brian, toward the door. You didn't need to tell him to move, he stepped back and into the hall. You passed him with a glare and stomped down the hall. He wasn't there to make you two make up, you realized as you bounded into the kitchen. He came to break you two up, deescalate the situation. Brian knew you two were fully grown adults who could work out their emotions in their own way. He also knew you both were bullheaded, so he must have felt compelled to break you both up. Considerate of him as you and Tim were probably seconds away from wringing each others necks. Him doing most of the choking, you clawing and growling at him. 

You tore the front door open, tuning out Tim's stupid fucking voice as he barked out obscenities. You didn't care to listen to who they were directed at. You didn't care about his opinion, you thought as you angrily walked away after hearing his shitty opinion.

Going on angry walks were becoming a staple in your self care routine. You always needed air, time to distress after being around your murder roomies for more than five seconds. That was a severe exaggeration, you'd grown to care deeply for all of them. They were pissing you off a lot less, it was more something you did when faced with mental anguish. Tim's words reopened slowly healing wounds, leaving them jagged and bloody all over again. Rubbing salt in them with a smile because he was a fucking coward, too scared to be loved.

With an angry hiss of breath, you kicked a rock as you stomped along into the woods, picking a random direction, _"God I fucking hate that asshole."_

You knew deep down you didn't hate him but at the moment, you _really_ fucking did.


	37. 36 - Knee Jerk Reaction

Your knuckles were raw, a mix of off color (s/c), pink, and angry red. You had to use what little common sense and self preservation you had left to stop yourself from your continued assault on the trees bark. You may have been the one punching it like an angry teenage boy but the bark was tearing at your skin, while you didn't make a dent in it. The only mark you left on the tree was small patches of flesh and blood soaking into the porous wood.

It'd been a few hours since you stormed out of the house. After a while, walking aimlessly while muttering obscenities lost its appeal. You decided to take a page from their book, beat on something helpless to relieve your own anger. Except a tree wasn't a person who you could actually hurt, not like you would hurt someone if there was another human around. Except if it was Tim, you would love to throw a rock at him.

It was cathartic, screaming and punching something, imagining it was Tim's stupid fucking face. Though it let you relieve a spike of pathetically violent anger, it hurt. Hissing and shaking out your hands, you stomped away from the tree, they pulsed dully with pain but you were too angry to care. "Stupid motherfucker."

The throbbing of your exposed layers of skin had you looking to your hands and not to where you were going. "Who the fuck does he think he is?" You growled out in a huff, moving on ahead. "This is all his fault." You said, having chosen to hit the tree. You knew it wasn't, you knew you didn't hate him. You called yourself a mature adult all while acting like a teenager, petty, hot blooded, and playing out revenge fantasies over and over in your head. Huffing at your own childishness, you brushed off the reasonable train of thought, "At least I'm not an emotionally repr- _AAH!"_

The sound of shock shot up from your vocal cords as your right foot caught on a root. Tipping forward dangerously, you flailed your arms about trying to regain your balance. All that did was have you falling sideways instead of forward, right leg taking the stress of supporting your falling body at an odd angle. 

Your right knee hit something first, a thick root protruding from the ground slammed into your knee while your body continued to fall. The only thing supporting your weight for that split second was your knee and your right foot. Your knee took most of the weight of the fall while your foot started to fly back.

_**Pop!**_

You completely forgot about the rest of your body, breath hitching as a bolt of pain exploded in your leg. You were quickly reminded that you had other body parts as they slammed into the dirt and mass of roots unevenly. Air was forced out of yours lungs as you let out what was supposed to be a yell but came out more as a desperate whine. Your flesh intensely ached as you let your head rest on the ground, letting the agony wash over you as your lungs burned, begging for air. 

Gasping as your eyes burned with tears, the initial shock of slamming your body into the forest floor began to die down. It still hurt but it was nothing compared to the harsh pulsation of pain in your right knee, your weak knee. 

All those months ago when you ran away from your now roommates, you and Jen had pretty much thrown yourselves off the shallow end of a cliff. You had a complete leg break, bone sticking out of your knee, kneecap harshly shoved aside. It took months to recover from but the doctors told you that you were lucky. You'd only have a limp that could improve overtime but would always be present. You could have completely fucked up your leg and had a dysfunctional knee, hardly able to bend without a brace. Instead you got warnings to be careful with your right leg as your knee after the fall could be prone to dislocation. 

You weren't exactly planning on tripping on a fucking root and busting your bad knee but you weren't planning on living with murder men either. Life never goes as you plan it to. 

Air began to filter back into your lungs as you let out pained gasps, using your shaking hands to push yourself off the mass of roots and into the much more even ground of dry dirt and leafs. Your knee screamed, having you grit your teeth in agony as you rolled yourself over to look at the damage. The familiar bump of your right knee was off, way off. Completely shoved to the side, skin stretching awkwardly where it had once been. Your stomach lurched, being able to clearly tell where your femur ended and your tibia began. The flesh around your dislocated knee was reddening and swelling already. 

With a hissing intake of air you screamed out a, " _FUCK!"_ Your scream reverberated through the trees, birds flying away from their nests in the branches above you. 

You had to look away, tears slipping down your cheeks. You realized that you were a few hours walk from home and there was no fucking way you were going to put any sort of weight on your leg. Steeling yourself with a grimace, you flipped yourself onto your belly. Knee throbbing with the unwelcome shifting. Grunting, you turned your body around, dragging yourself forward with your forearms and pushing yourself onward with your good leg. Just like that night but instead of desperately running from the men, you wanted them to come find and help you. 

Dragging your dislocated knee across the forest floor wasn't ideal but it was your only option. You'd attempted to do a three limbed crawl but that quickly failed, you falling onto your busted knee and having you cry into the dirt for ten minutes while it throbbed so painfully you thought you were going to throw up. So, onward you dragged yourself, feeling stupid and angry all the same. 

Your mouth was dry, your clothes were caked in dirt, the skin you dragged across the ground was covered in scratches, irritated and bruising. Sweating and panting heavily through the agony were the only constants in your journey. Crickets began to buzz in the forest around you as shadows began to elongate, the forest growing ever darker as dusk took hold. You knew you were still a long way from home despite the fact that you'd been traveling for so fucking long. 

You tried yelling out for them a few times through the hours of dragging yourself along like a helpless snail. Nobody came. At first you let the anger take hold of your thoughts, bitterly thinking that it was typical. That they were all unempathetic monsters who didn't give a shit about you. After awhile of dragging yourself though, panic and anger simmered down to even more panic but a lot less anger. Rational thought returned, you knew they cared, they just couldn't hear you. You'd stormed off in a random direction with a devil may care attitude, figuring you'd turn around and walk home whenever you wanted or one of them would find you and escort you home. 

You stormed off in the morning and the sun was beginning to set. You wondered if they were worried about you or if they thought you needed extra time to cool off, you would appreciate the space if you hadn't been crawling at a snail's pace for hours on end. If you hadn't busted your knee you'd probably still be out in all honesty. Tim's words cut through you, leaving you bitter and wanting to not be under the same roof as him for a long time. You had considered staying the night in the woods before your fall but you scrapped the idea. Being alone in the dark forest, the twig being able to show up at anytime and you without any backup, it had chills running down your spine. The bad kind.

Exhaustion was taking hold, understandable. The pain shooting from your knee didn't care to lessen in intensity, sapping your strength and energy. Things were looking down for you, you were either going to pass out on the forest floor, spending the night alone in the woods lost and in pain. It had you reflecting back on your earlier choices, your venomous words.

As an adult, you should have walked away the second Tim started throwing his pathetic bitch fit. You should have been the bigger person, but you couldn't be after all the shit he said. Having basic human decency was something you were trying to keep a hold of but Tim's sharp words had you throwing aside all desire to take the high road. He went for below the belt jabs and you fell for the bait, falling into the trap that he set up for himself. He succeeded in pushing you away. You leaned more towards the side of still being angry with him, it was sad that he felt that doing what he did was necessary but his self sabotage involved hurting you. As a grown ass man, you expected some more constructive ways of him handling himself. Then again, they were murderers by occupation and took the job as stress reliever, a stress reliever that hurt them emotionally. So they built up walls of apathy, anger, and acceptance for their shitty situation. They became people they probably never wanted to be, broken and coping in all the worst ways.

You could relate to that, going through that transformation not too long ago. Guilt weighed heavy on your shoulders for every kill but with each tally of a life taken, you grew more apathetic to the horrendous acts. Except for Sully, his death weighed on your mind like no other. It had impacted your relationships with all of them severely. In mostly good ways, good ways which you relished in. Leaning into their touch, accepting their words of reassurance, all because you were a pitiful cannibal who hated yourself so much. In their worry for your decaying mental state, their anger at your failed attempt to help them, two of them grew incredibly close to you. Entering into developing romantic relationships with them that helped you more than anything has in a long time. All while your leader looked on with disgust, hardly hiding his feelings, implied to be romantic behind hateful looks and words of contempt.

During your pathetic journey, you found yourself wondering how Sully would feel about your developing and decaying relationships with the men, his tormentors, your roommates. Would he be elated at the fact that so many loved you in ways he never could? Would he be disgusted by you, making out with the man who slipped him codes that probably spoke of threats to be carried out? He was always adamant about self love, taking it where you could get it. Throwing all caution to the wind, fall in love faster than a body falling from a balcony. Near the end though, he couldn't get any because of what the men had done to him, making him paranoid. His shithead flings fucking off in his time of need. His life fell into discord because he knew you. The men you were falling for ruined him and you leaned into their love shamelessly. There was the underlying disgust that you thought he'd have for you but you honestly didn't know if he would be disgusted by you. His dumb ass would probably understand all too well, accept your feelings with way too much emotional maturity. Be okay with you but he wasn't here to confirm those thoughts. So you continued on, unsure of how to feel about yourself because an outside opinion wasn't degrading or validating you.

"Jesus fucking Christ." You heaved, head lulling down in exhaustion. Talking only reminded you of how painfully dry your mouth and throat were, only furthering your elongated suffering. You felt the need to let out a verbal complaint as a momentary respite from letting out grunts and moans, it was a change of pace but not a nice one.

"There you are." The last voice you wanted to hear right now grated on your ears as your head snapped up. Tim pushed himself past a few low hanging branches, thick with leafs. A lit cigarette hanging from his lips, lazily pouring smoke into the air, the light softly illuminating his face in the growing darkness in the forest. When his eyes fell upon your crawling form, they were full of resentment but also confusion. "What the fuck are you doing?" His voice was back to its more normal manner of speech, not reminding you of Masky but more of Tim. The emotional mask he forced over himself was gone for the most part, that didn't mean he'd calmed down or was ready to let you in. Not like you wanted to be right now. If you could stand you would punch his stupid smug face. 

Tim was like a beacon of hope, a way to get home if you played your cards right, having to bottle up your burning rage for the man. Yet you weren't in the mood to be a nice person for the sake of your aching body, you were too spitefully prideful to do that at the moment.

"Looking for worms," You glided your filthy fingers across the dirt, momentarily looking enthralled with the ground before looking back to him, "Seems I found one, a big pathetic fucking worm." You shot the stupid insult at him, your voice rough and hoarse, wordplay was all you had right now. Even if it wasn't the most clever insult you were fine with doing anything you could to get him to go away. You were still reasonably angry with him, his immaturity activated yours. You weren't proud of how you acted but he shouldn't be either.

Tim approached, boots shaking the ground you lay on. Fight or flight had you regretting your words for a moment, thinking you were about to get your shit rocked because of your comment.

"Stay the fuck away from me." You hissed, pushing yourself back with your forearms. If it came to him hurting you, you didn't want to start begging for mercy no matter how much your body wanted you to. You were going to throw verbal rocks at him as long as you could speak.

"Your leg." Tim's observed as he stopped by your side, taking in your filthy appearance with a drag of his cigarette, eyebrows furrowed in concern. Your kneecap was pretty much on the side of your leg, it was pretty obvious that you were hurt.

"Yes Tim," You spat, looking up to him, relief washing over you, "I have legs. Thank you for your astute observation." Your momentary panic brought on by the trauma he contributed to was completely replaced by your searing hate for him.

His hands were suddenly on your waist, hoisting you roughly from the ground. The movement had you squawking in disagreement, _"Don't fucking touch me!"_ Your body was weak with exhaustion and dehydration, you weakly flailed your limbs but couldn't do much. Your right leg painfully shifting as he lifted you like a roll of carpet. The agony shot the hollow threat past your lips, " _Put me down or I'll fucking kill you!"_

You didn't want to kill anybody else and you knew you couldn't kill Tim. As much as you punched a tree, imagining it to be his face, you didn't actually want to bring any harm to him. It was because you were a sometimes reasonable adult who knew that violence against him would only make things worse. You'd lower yourself to his level, a pathetic wretch lashing out in the worst way they knew possible. He was used to violence, emotional damage meant more to him. While to you violence was an excusable act of lashing out, so was the emotional damage but sometimes violence could leave someones body weak forever. Like how your right leg was prone to dislocating because of the violence that forced you to take a tumble off a cliff. 

Tim threw you over his shoulder like you were a sack of potatoes. Holding the backs of your thighs with one arm, legs dangling uselessly in front of his torso. Your front was left to hang off his back, blood rushing unpleasantly to your head, his shoulder digging into your lower abdomen.

Ignoring your empty words and fists weakly pounding at his back, he turned on his heels and began to walk, "Let's get you home, asshole," He grumbled before begrudgingly adding, "Brian's losing his shit." He had to make sure that you knew that he totally didn't look for you of his own accord. It was another's idea, he didn't care about you.

He was so transparent even through the abrasive walls he'd put back up. Brian could have come after you himself, maybe he did, going a different direction than Tim. You doubted it, you practically left a trail of angry footprints in the dirt, kicked piles of sticks and leafs. Finding you was probably a cinch for any of them. Tim was either sent to find you by Brian, maybe wanting you two to make up or Tim set off for you after all your time away. He was a good leader who looked after his partners, you'd said it yourself. Brian wanted general harmony in the house but you believed that he knew that you two would need a lot of time apart, he wouldn't order Tim to find you in some plot to force you two to makeup. Tim came for you out of worry, worry that you got lost or hurt. Though you wouldn't doubt that if you were unharmed he'd fuck off, leaving without saying anything to you. Just maybe walking home slow enough for you to follow at a distance as you probably wouldn't be able to retrace your steps. 

You were still upset with him, he still acted like a child. Him helping you was a step in the right direction but him carrying you the degrading way that he was, the same way he'd carried you into the van when he kidnapped you. It made you feel that he was still looking down at you. Which translated into him looking down at himself because he still wanted you mad at him. He didn't want you to forgive him, he wanted to continue his horrible streak of disrespect. 

"I can walk," You refused to say his name, it would feel like a vile poison on your tongue, "Put me down." You spoke icily, your stubborn pride refusing the help from the man-child who held you. 

Tim hummed, "Fine. Walk yourself home then." He pulled you backward with the arm that held your thighs, you slid forward quickly with a gasp, grasping awkwardly to his shirt in an attempt to catch yourself. He slowed your descent to the ground, arm now wrapped around your back for a less awkward hold for when you stood. You caught a glance of his other hand near his mouth, adjusting the cigarette. You hoped that he was smoking because of his actions. Hoping that he needed a reprieve so badly that he'd be sucking on his cancer stick, feeling sorry for his pitiful self and how he treated you.

You couldn't walk and he knew it. The second both your feet hit the ground your vision doubled, you let a scream as hot pain shot up your leg. You lurched forward, right leg buckling horribly under the slight weight you put on it. Instead of falling forward and hitting the ground a second time, Tim's arm lifted you, taking the weight off your leg and throwing you over his shoulder once more. You were relieved to have the weight off your leg, the idea of actually going home and not sleeping in the woods was a dandy one.

However, his, _"Thought so."_ Quickly reminded you of who was taking you home. He'd complied with your request which was honestly kinda fair on his part. You were both mad at one another after all, you should have seen it coming. You were still pissed though, the throbbing of your right knee only made you more irritable. 

You curled your lips back in a snarl as he began to walk with you dangling off his back, his gait lightly swaying you back and forth. You kept quiet, talking fucking sucked and you didn't want to give him more of what he wanted. You weren't taking the high road, being mature. Your blood was boiling, his earlier words, him holding you in the dehumanizing way that he was. You wanted to chew him out but you wouldn't out of spite. It seemed backwards but after thinking for a hot second about his actions you realized, he was still being an asshole on purpose. He wanted you to open your mouth, give him more reasons to be a horrible, further the distance between you two. It was blatantly obvious, you weren't going to blindly insult him anymore. He didn't deserve to get what he wanted, what he wanted was shitty and unhealthy anyways.

It'd been only a few minutes and you were feeling dizzy, nauseous, and your vision was starting to blur. You felt like you were going to pass out any minute now, the blood rushing to your head had your dome feeling like a heavy weight. As much as you didn't want to talk to him, you didn't want to pass out.

"Tim." You croaked, looking to the passing ground that you could hardly see under the setting sun. 

"What dumb ass?" He grunted, a long sigh following, he'd taken a drag off his cigarette. 

"Hold me like a normal fucking person," Even your lips felt heavy with blood, moving them was a taxing act, "I think I'm gonna pass out." You tacked on the explanation, hoping that his leader side, the side that wanted to keep everyone together, would listen to you. 

He paused his walk, not adjusting you just yet. You herd a soft ' _thud'_ followed by a quick shuffle, he'd stamped out his cigarette. You wondered how much second hand smoke you'd inhaled at this point, the damage it could do to your mortal lungs. 

Letting out a long sigh, he tipped you backwards, "You big fuckin' baby." He mumbled as you let him slide your body around like you were a rag doll.

You groaned with the movement, knee sending jolts of pain through your body with every little shift of your leg. Your back was supported by a strong arm, tipping you back and across Tim's chest. Your head lulled back uselessly, you could feel your blood rushing back into place. His other arm went under your good knee and held your right leg by the ankle, keeping it straight, keeping it from being more painful. 

Blinking as your vision blurred trees together, Tim inquired as he continued his walk, "What the fuck did you do anyway? You look like shit." His words weren't playfully hateful, they were spoken with contempt. He was genuinely insulting you, probably thinking you to be an idiot for getting yourself so messed up on a simple walk. 

There was the option of continuing to ignore every little thing he said, stay quiet for you own sanity. You didn't know how much longer of a walk it was home and if you ignored his questions he just might get even more irritating. Already fed up with talking to him you began, "I tripped." You lazily eyed him, forcing your neck to support your head instead of leaning on his shoulder. Wanting to have at least a little dignity when speaking to him.

Looking at the dark forest ahead, Tim scoffed, "Figures, you're always gettin' hurt. It's _pathetic_ how clumsy you are, ya'know?" As the leader of your group, he was looking out for your physical health. You couldn't comply with The Operators demands with a broken body and no regenerative powers. As himself though, Tim was still being a dick. It was, in his own words, pathetic.

You couldn't keep quiet anymore, just letting things be tense without acknowledging your fight, "Stop it." You spoke as firmly as your voice would allow, giving a command to your supposed superior.

Tim finally looked down to you with raised brows, a slight smile, "Stop what?" He spat playing dumb, his mask was slipping back on. 

You weren't going to have that shit. You wanted to confront the real Tim, not a flimsy persona he conceived to keep his feelings in check.

"Trying to make me insult you, I'm not going to." There was a satisfaction in acting like you were taking the highroad, you weren't at all though. The plan was to cut him off from your negative attention, he was using you to hurt himself. As much as you resented him right now, you didn't like being used as a tool for emotional self harm. It was hurting him but it was hurting you too. 

Tim made a show of rolling his eyes while clicking his tongue, "Uh-huh, and why's that?"

You weren't going to put your heart on your sleeve with him again, not now. Not after what he said to you, he didn't deserve it and you didn't want to give him words of affirmation. You'd call him out for his bullshit but you wouldn't justify his actions to himself, he knew what he was doing, that it was wrong. It was on him to make amends with you.

"Because you're fucking hurting yourself and me and it's not cool." You sounded like a snot nosed brat but you weren't going to be the most articulate with your feelings when you had a busted knee, "You're trying to trick me into fighting you because _you're_ upset. Because _you_ couldn't keep your emotions in check, so you lashed out at _me. Because you hate yourself and I don't wanna be part of your self hating bullshit._ If you hate yourself, fine! But don't drag me into it, you absolute child." You started with the intent to not insult him but was it an insult if it was true and you both knew it?

"Like," You continued after a dragging breath, "If you don't wanna talk to me, cool! Just don't be a dick, 'kay? Have some fucking respect like the rest of us and hate yourself without hurting others!" You couldn't read the blank look on his face, you hoped he was processing every little word and taking them to heart. You added on a few more sentiments, hoping that they'd strike close enough to home to get the message through his thick skull, "I know you wanna keep the team together 'n all but, if you act like this then how the fuck do you expect us to work well together on and off the job? You do know that as a fucking human, you need other people, right?" You knew of his deep bonds with the other boys but if this was a trend, it'd hurt all of you in the long haul. If it hadn't hurt the others already.

"I know you don't wanna be _loved,"_ You spat the word out with a bitter hiss, "But other people do and it's fucking nice, okay? You getting on me for wanting to be loved is so fucking dumb! I'm just trying to survive and thrive in this bullshit situation!" You were monologuing so hard, "I get that you're scared or some shit but like," You clicked your tongue, _"Work on it for fucks sake!"_ You were chastising the man who could drop your broken ass on the ground if he wanted to, but he didn't. He hadn't interrupted you at all, he just dumbly stared down at you. You believed that you were getting through to him with your own set of abrasive words. If he really wanted to keep himself like this, he would have interrupted and insulted you by now. " _Pushing people away isn't the right answer. Get over yourself."_ Telling a definitely mentally ill person to get over themselves is a total dick move. However, he did need to get over himself because he was hurting you to hurt himself. If he did care about you, it was backwards and silly. If he did care about you or even himself the tiniest little bit, he could at least try to work on himself. You didn't have the option to be good people in your position but you could be as okay as possible to make it less shitty. 

Jaw clenching shut as you finished your long lecture of calling his bullshit, you stared at him with a hard gaze. He looked away from you and to the trail ahead, brows furrowed and a frown on his lips. He could have pulled an insult out of his ass by now but he hadn't. He was processing. You huffed, you'd allow him the silence to think. As cathartic as it was to call his shit, you knew he needed time. 

And time he took. The buzz of crickets had grown exponentially in volume, you couldn't see anything anymore. You just felt his arms holding you up, your side pressed into his chest, his heart beat steady against your body. Twigs and leafs crunching beneath his boots, soft breaths that smelled of smoke. You couldn't see him but his presence was apparent, overwhelming. He was still thinking. You were glad for once in his life he was taking ample time to think before he spoke, not barking out the first thing that came to mind like a chihuahua.

When he did speak it surprised you. "I'm a dick and I shouldn't have taken my anger out on you." You knew by anger he meant self hatred, anger toward himself. It wasn't just the words of genuine self deprecation that didn't involve upsetting you, from the most stubborn man you knew that surprised you, it was the tone, the sudden speech. He didn't soften it or speak quietly, he spoke normally in his monotone droning voice. He wasn't going to hide behind pretty words and a soft voice, he was being blunt, honest.

You were expecting him to leave it at that, him owning the fact that what he did was wrong but no apology because he was a stubborn bastard. He didn't sigh, leave a pause to brace himself, he just came out with it, his eyes darting down shyly to look at you, "I'm sorry (Y/n)."

All was not forgiven. A measly apology wouldn't take back the damage he'd done so willingly. But it was a good start to mending your tattered relationship; you weren't ready to forgive and forget just yet. He had to show you he was sorry, act. Work on himself, not talk to you like you were beneath him, talk to you like a friend. He didn't have to reciprocate your now confusing but once sure feelings for him. He was scared and you'd respect that, but also you weren't going to throw yourself at a man who was so self destructive, so self hating that he hurt those he clearly cared about, you. You knew that his progress wasn't going to linear, he'd probably been told this kind of shit before too, his apology wasn't a guarantee for his personal growth. You just hope that this would be the straw to break the camels back. 

There was no high road to take right now, you were on equal grounds with the option to hit him while he's being straight with you. You wanted to get along with him, you'd be living together awhile after all. Despite him being a total shit bag, you cared for Tim and you wanted what was best for him. You had thrown yourself at the tall prick for him and the others. He hurt your feelings but with work, you could mend your relationship, you could be friends, he could treat you as an equal. Eventually. 

You needed to take the same step forward that he had, "I'm sorry too Tim."

You just let the words slip from your mouth, no mental preparation just like he had done. You were sorry you took the bait like an idiot, that you contributed to the current situation. He set the argument off but you stayed for it, it wasn't just his fault. You were tempted to add a teasing insult, go back to your old relationship but that'd make things comfortable. Change couldn't happen in comfort, so you stayed quiet as he carried you home. 

Brian had been waiting by the door when you and Tim came home. Idly reminding you of how he stalked Sully, you wondered if he stood outside his trailer window, looking at him through the dotted eyes of his mask for hours. The anger toward him and Tim for their crimes against Sully hadn't ceased but at the moment, you had bigger things to fret over.

You didn't know he was there until Tim called out a greeting to the man who simply opened the door. You hoped you hadn't worried him too badly. The last time you worried him so badly he kept an eagle eye on you while not talking to you for days on end. You hadn't set out with the intent to ruin your leg though, it just kinda happened. 

You assumed Tim was the only one to look for you so Brian hung back at home, waiting anxiously. As Tim carried you through the kitchen, you smiled at the thought of him being such a mother goose. He was probably going to fret over you the second he realized how fucked up you were. Covered in cuts, bruises, and having a dislocated knee. 

Toby was pacing in circles in the living room. When he saw you his face lit up with relief, "(Y/n)!"

Toby threw himself at you and Tim. The man quickly dodged out of the brunettes grasp.

"Toby you idiot!" Tim snapped, your leg dully aching with the sudden movement. "She's hurt! Are you blind!?"

No longer being alone in a tense silence, Tim returned to the grumpy man that you knew the best. You were surprised, he acted like this all the time, it was his way of brushing things off. He was definitely going to brush off the fact that he helped you, that you'd had a moment. Not towards you, there was no point denying what you both did, apologize. His walls were up, he wasn't going to show very much vulnerability. If he was as emotionally constipated as you thought, he wasn't going to keep up his truthful bluntness around the others. Now that you were all together his angry asshole persona was back on. Though you didn't completely believe it was entirely a persona, it was just another side to his personality that he played up to a ridiculous extent.

"Ssshuh-she's hurt?" Toby echoed Tim's words as the man approached the couch. He sounded more confused than concerned. Toby couldn't ever seem to wrap his head around the fact that you needed a lot of rest. You kinda understood, he couldn't feel pain and anytime him or his partners got hurt they could just brush it off. On the other hand, you could feel pain and couldn't rebound as easily as they could.

You shot a glance around Tim and saw Brian following the both of you, brows knit and lips in a thin line. He'd probably already assumed the worst, you had proven to be a magnet for bodily harm. Seeing the way Tim was holding you must have confirmed his suspicions of you getting messed up, you mentally prepared yourself for a few more days of the silent treatment if worse came to worse. 

"Yeah," Tim stopped before the couch, "Dumb ass tripped." You rolled you eyes as he carefully set you down. In a complete contradiction to his biting words, making sure to keep your leg as straight as possible. Caring for your health.

Brian practically hovered over Tim's shoulder, eyes locked on the gruesome dislocation.

"Tripped?" He raised his brows in mild disbelief, quickly moving out of Tim's way as he stepped back from the couch. You supposed it was a reasonable reaction, tripping usually resulted in scraped knees and palms not your kneecap on the wrong way. 

You forced laugh, "Yeah." Tim made his way toward the kitchen, you thought he was going to leave. Job done, leaving your presence as quickly as possible. Instead he leaned in the kitchen doorway, keeping his distance but watching out for you. Brian knelt by your side as you continued, "Caught my foot on a root." You shrugged, placing your hands idly on your stomach, covering one with the other. Suddenly self conscious about the peeled back layers of skin, you didn't want to admit to punching a tree. 

Toby was practically trying to crawl over Brian's shoulder to help out with his lack of medical knowledge, his head resting on top of Brian's and his hands dangling over the man's chest. You softly laughed as Brian spoke to the boy, "Toby, could you get the Ibuprofen, disinfectant, and a wet towel?"

You felt that his request was more for Toby, giving him something to do to feel like he was helping you. Pain killers were also very much welcome, everything was sore. 

Toby jumped off of Brian's back, "Gah-got it!" He scampered out of the living room, socked feet pounding on the carpet.

"This looks pretty bad," Brian stated the obvious, hands hovering near the bruising flesh around your knee, "But I think I can set it straight." 

" _What?"_ You didn't need an explanation for what he was about to do, you got the message right away. Anxiety shooting through your system, you knew it would be for the best but you didn't want to feel the same exploding pain of your kneecap shifting once more. 

Stomach doing flips in your throat, Toby ran back into the room clutching two plastic bottles and a light blue towel. "Don't wuh-worry (Y/n)! I got you!" Toby spoke way too loud for what was normally socially acceptable. He was just worried and eager to help, not quite knowing what to do in order to relieve your pain. 

Toby bounded over, setting the items on the coffee table, not taking his eyes off you.

"Thank you Toby." Brian spoke evenly, brows still risen, he was keeping it together quite well as per usual. You appreciated it because you were flipping shit in your head. "(Y/n)." You looked from Toby's concerned face to his mildly worried face. You hummed in response, stomach dropping at what you knew he was going to say. "I need to set your knee back into place right away." That was probably for the best, the thing was painfully swollen. It'd been like that for hours, if finally being back in place sooner than later sounded good but you had a feeling he wasn't going to wait for the painkillers you'd yet to take to kick in. "It's going to hurt a lot," No shit, "But you need to stay still."

"Brian," You croaked, throat feeling like it was constricting shut from anxiety and dryness, "I literally don't trust myself to keep still." Your self preservation skills were absolute garbage, you didn't doubt for a second that you'd trash about in blind panic at the pain. This was for the best but it was terrifying.

"I ca-can hold you down-own." Toby suggested, rounding the coffee table and standing beside Brian. He didn't pounce on you like he'd attempted to earlier, he couldn't quite understand fully what you were going through but he was trying his best to help.

You vigorously nodded, without thinking you held out one of your hands for him to take. Brian briefly glanced at the hints of red under the layers of dirt on your knuckles, he didn't say anything about it. Toby grabbed your hand with one of his gloved hands and pressed on your upper right thigh with the other, pinning the leg to the couch so you couldn't thrash it about.

"You can sskuh-squeeze as hard as you need tuh-too." Toby reminded you of his condition, not that you needed a reminder, but it was more of him reassuring you that you wouldn't hurt him if in your agony you felt the subconscious need to crush his hand. 

Your skin buzzed painfully under Brian's calloused fingers, you hissed watching him ready himself to pop your kneecap back into place. You were already squeezing Toby's hand in your anxiety. "Are you ready?" 

No matter how much you braced yourself it'd still hurt like a motherfucker. Thoughts shooting back to your apologies with Tim, it's best to rip the band aid off. "Do it."

You weakly commanded looking away from your knee, not wanting to see the exact moment Brian would snap it back into place. You glanced to Tim in the doorway, arms crossed, he didn't have to be here or help but he was here to make sure a valued member of the team would be okay. You gave him a smile akin to a white person passing another white person on the sidewalk.

**_Pop!_**

With a bark of a scream you lurched forward, Toby's hand holding your right leg down firm. The pain was worse a second time, with hours of bruises and swelling having your nerves overstimulated. You took full advantage of Toby's hand, squeezing it like it was a lifeline, which it kind of was. Eyes screwed shut and tears pushing passed your shut lids, your face contorting in pain as you heaved out a, " _FUCK!"_ For the second time that day. The harsh pain spiked when you felt the sickening feeling of your kneecap being forced back into place, a sliding disk on aching meat. It still hurt after the initial shock but it was nowhere near as bad. 

Brian let you pop the pain killers with a glass of water as soon as he made sure that you were okay, wiping the tears from your face softly. He went on about it probably not being the best idea for you to shower at the moment. Standing, walking, probably not the hottest ideas for you right now. He whipped off what layers of dirt he could with the rag, cleaning your scrapes and being careful about pressing the rag too hard on your bruises. 

Tim stuck around until Toby pressed a chaste kiss on your lips in his relief. Making an obnoxious sound of disgust with a, "Gross." Before rudely excusing himself to smoke. 

You realized you'd never been in Toby's room when he insisted on Brian putting you in his room. Brian shot down the idea, saying how the boy would be too aggressively cuddly and may accidentally hurt you. He clammed up after that, knowing that it was true. 

They'd vacated the room for you to carefully change out of your filthy clothes. Brian gave you one of his t-shirts to wear, you laughed at the horrible shirt for way too long while you slowly peeled off your dirt covered shorts. He had to have stolen it, you didn't want to believe he completely unironically bought the thing. The message was in white lettering on top of black fabric, ' _Women want me, fish fear me.'_ You don't think hes talked about fishing ever, but as a woman you could confirm that he's desirable.

You were getting dirt on his bed, but you'd done the same with the couch, they just nonchalantly wiped it off, not caring; they were a bunch of bachelor murder men they weren't scared of a little dirt. It was considerate of him to give you a shirt that fit more like a long dress, you didn't want to brave putting on shorts once more.

You called them back in when you were done, hands resting on your clothed thighs as the shirt reached down past your knees. Toby burst the door open, Brian filing in behind the boy with a hand on his shoulder to pull him back if he tried to jump on you. He wanted to be as affectionate as possible but his affection was in the form of tight cuddle where he sometimes forgot about whatever your latest injury was. 

Brian sat between you and Toby. He trusted him wholeheartedly with mostly everything and he knew Toby only had good intentions but he was excitable and forgetful at times. 

You found your head resting on Brian's shoulder, some time later in the evening. He spoke in a lull of Toby's near constant stream of word vomit. He was polite enough to wait for the boy to cease his chatter at least.

"Tim struggles feeling like he's worth it." His statement was out of left field and had you looking to his stubbly face with confusion. Through hearing more than he let on, Tim ranting to him, or context clues Brian had figured out the quarrel between the both of you had started over the suggestion of love.

You hummed, a suggestion for him to continue, "He doesn't let me or Toby in sometimes, and I've know him since college." It was nice to learn more about Tim. You were still angry at him but you'd take information about your roommates where you could get it. The more you learned about them, the better you liked them. You had a shallow hope that learning more of Tim would spark some more empathy in you for the man, making him easier to forgive. Honestly, you wanted to forgive him but couldn't bring yourself to, not just yet. Even if you did grow some more empathy for him, it wouldn't make his actions justified, he'd still need to atone for his sharp words.

Though, it was good to know that Tim hadn't completely singled you out for your romantic advance, he also recoiled at the love of dear friends, pretty much family. You felt like an ass, you couldn't have known, but you still felt like a fool for reading Tim's body language perfectly only to have it backfire on you. He did want to be loved, his body was basically screaming ' _fuckin' kiss me_ ,' at you but his mind pushed the idea and you away. 

"Yeah," Toby chimed in, voice dropping from one of excitement to one of mild melancholy, "The oh-old man can get real puh-pissy when I try to hug him."

"Toby, you jump on his back when he's in the middle of his first cup of coffee." Brain let out an amused chuckle, you couldn't help but smile at the momentary happiness on his face, "Anyone would get upset if that was done to them."

It was a mix between playfulness and genuine dejection, "Yeah but sstuh-still."

Brian tousled the boys curls playfully before continuing, the comforting touch bringing a small smile to Toby's lips.

"I know," His arm had been slung around your shoulders, the weight was comforting, as he looked down at you, "The last person he loved died." Brian dropped the bomb with a sigh. You assumed it was Jay, you assumed Brian was implying that Tim had feelings for you. "He blames himself for it when he wasn't the one who pulled the trigger." Those last few words were laced with a diluted venom his gaze hardening as he looked away. He wouldn't get too heated, but it was obvious Jay's killer wasn't Brian's favorite person. He paused letting you process the information, you didn't quite know what to say, "You can still die." You knew that very well, it was a fact you wore with an odd pride. Death could still get to you like any other normal human being because you weren't a proxy. "He's scared." Brian didn't need to tell you of what, "But," He drawled out in a more casual tone, looking back to you softly, "I think he might come around in awhile."

"Alright," You spoke processing the information, "Thank you for telling me, Brian." The idea of Tim coming around, accepting your affection was an odd one in your head. In the moment you noted genuine romantic feelings for Tim, but after his childish outburst you doubted your feelings. It wasn't like you were above being involved with murderous assholes but Tim's outburst got way too personal for the both of you. If he decided to work on himself then you'd come around, it wasn't just him who needed time. 

There were a few minutes of silence between the three of you, near silence actually. Toby tics had him shifting about every once in a while, the audible ' _pop'_ of a knuckle making you cringe. 

"Hey (Y/n)?" Toby began innocently which couldn't be good.

"Yea?" You leaned your head around Brian's shoulder to look at the brunette.

"Wh-what happened to your knuh-knuckles?" He glanced to the backs of your hands which were very slowly beginning to scab over. 

"Oh uh!" You really didn't want to admit to the embarrassing act, it was silly and a bad way to get your anger out, "I fell?" You were a horrible liar. 

"You punched a tree, didn't you?" Brian spoke with a smirk as you choked on your words. He hadn't been around to carry you home, so the only way he knew was by a lucky guess or his creepy knowledge of your character.

"Maybe." You wanted to look away in embarrassment but his knowing smile was too good to look at to pass up the chance to gawk at. 

Toby let out a few giggles, "I puh-punch trees too ssuh-sometimes!" He sounded like a kid trying to impress somebody, excitedly spilling out the information with no shame. "We sssh-should punch ssh-shit together! As a date!" The idea of a date sounded nice, domestic, normal. Fucking up your knuckles on mother nature once was bad enough though, you weren't looking to do it again.

"Toby don't encourage her." Brian tried to deadpan like he was genuinely concerned you'd say yes to the idea. He was teasing you just as you feared he would. Though it was embarrassing you didn't mind too much, it brought smiles to their faces, which brought one to yours.

You let out a short laugh, weakly hitting Brian's chest with your aching hand. "That's a nice idea," You were going to let him down gently, "But I'd prefer something more romantic."

"Punching tre-trees is romantic!" Toby cried in an exaggerated tone, he knew his idea was silly. Playing it up just to make you laugh. So you did.

It was nice to spend lighthearted quality time with your boys. Tim's lack of a presence was somewhat welcome but deep down you wanted him there smiling and laughing with all of you, he was a big part of the team. You wondered if he was happy, outside and alone with a cigarette as his only company or if he wanted to be there with you all, trapped behind the walls he built up.


	38. 37 - Patricide And Pussy

**Content warning: Light NSFW Mentions**

It'd been two days since your knee was popped back into place. You could technically walk, but it hurt like a motherfucker. Toby and Brian had taken it upon themselves to carry you around wherever you needed to go, and you did not mind one bit. Mostly Brian until he lectured Toby on being careful with you for a whole half hour. Toby being allowed to carry you around made it only a matter of time until he brought you to his room to hang out. The environment wouldn't change how you'd interact at all but you thought that he just liked the idea of having you in his room, it was just something that helped solidify in his mind that you were together.

You both hadn't felt the need to have a talk about what you were. Making out with someone willingly while at hatchet point isn't something you just do to someone and _not_ be with them.

His room was somehow less messier than Tim's, it still looked like hellscape though. Toby knew what a hamper was, that was the most noticeable difference. Clothes kept off the floor, messily stuffed into open drawers or the overflowing hamper shoved into the corner of the room. Right beside his door sat what was supposed to be a desk, but it looked more like a multi-color war zone. Stacks of finished art work, broken crayons, muddied water color pallets, and chewed on pencils sat on its surface, completely disorganized. He claimed that it was organized and you were intimidated by his power to figure out what was what in the absolute mess of artistic materials. 

He had a double sized bed, smaller than Brian's queen sized one, but it comfortably sat the both of you over his brown sheets that were thrown every which way. You were convinced none of them ever made their beds. 

Both of your legs were splayed before you, laid out straight as bending them irritated your weak knee. Your back was pressed into Toby's chest, him leaning on the wall behind his bed, one of his legs on either side of you, his socked feet swinging in place. With arms wrapped around your waist, he fidgeted with his gloveless hands. Picking and pulling at the dry skin around his fingernails. You'd seen people bite their nails, pick at the dead skin and scabs. but this was a whole new level of aggression. You now understood how his fingers got like that, assuming that the stick couldn't heal anything that happened before they became proxies. The uneven layers of scar tissue, rough and off color, the closer you got to his fingertips the worse the scarring got. You also wondered idly if Brian or Tim got him the gloves in an attempt to help him stop picking.

You knew that he'd be fine, the skin he harshly pulled away would be back tomorrow. It was still upsetting to see him hurt himself, he couldn't feel the pain but you liked when his flesh was where it was supposed to be, not being peeled away and tossed onto the floor for him to _maybe_ clean up later.

"Hey Tobes." You brought your hands to the backs of his, softly interrupting his rambling about his favorite bugs to draw, "How about you do this?" He willingly let you lead his hands away from one another, cold hands melting into your warm ones.

"What do you muh-mean?" His jaw shifted atop your head as he spoke. Not quite catching that the idle peeling of flesh made you uncomfortable, it reminded you of bad things, dead people and skin between your teeth.

"I know you like to fidget," You guided his hands to either side of your head, "How about you play with my hair?" You didn't want to get into your trauma right now, that'd kill the mood. Besides, you liked hearing Toby ramble about bugs. 

You waited until Toby got over the initial shock of your tender touch, he was always amazed at your soft touches. It only solidified the idea in your head that he didn't get a lot of love growing up, that he had never really been shown gentle affection. The second his fingers began to bury themselves beneath soft strands of (h/c) hair, you dropped your hands from his and idly rested them on his legs. 

He was completely entranced with twirling your hair between his fingers, raking his hands over your scalp. You relaxed even more into him with a content hum, he'd been so absorbed in your hair that he hadn't spoken for some time. He still twitched, letting out the occasional soft grunt with some of the more demanding ones. 

"I th-think," Toby's voice broke the silence with a vocalized realization, "You're the only puh-person I've been close to like this-is." 

You hummed, "You think?" Recalling Brian telling you didn't remember his past. Though, he spoke what you assumed were words of love that his mother taught him in German. You assumed fragments of his past stuck with him, something had to have shaped him into who he is, his outlook on things, he didn't develop his personality, mannerisms, and opinions out of nowhere. 

"Yeah," His head shifted atop yours as he spoke, "I don't th-think anyone's liked me like you do." His continued use of the word 'think' only confirmed his memory loss for you. He wasn't completely sure of his past so he spoke as if the murky details of his beginnings were theories.

You brought a hand up from his leg and blindly up to his face, a pang of sadness in your heart for the boy as you lightly touched his stubbly cheek. "I'm surprised since you're such a charmer." The last time you called him a charmer you also called him a virgin and he got really mad. This time you meant it: he was charming, quirky, and cute.

Leaning into your touch he continued, "I didn't th-think," You felt his torso shift behind you as he rolled his shoulders back, "That love would be this nuh-nice." You were sure his mom loved him, he'd known familial love before this but not romantic love.

You felt like your heart was breaking for him, he may not remember shit but something bad formulated a pessimistic view on romance. You carefully shifted forward, turning your head up to him, "I'm glad that I could show you, Tobes." 

Blinking at you with wide eyes and a warm smile, Toby spoke after a few moments of processing your affection, "I love you."

There it was again, the L word. He spoke it with complete conviction as he leaned down for a quick peck which you returned with a smile. Love was something that took time for some people, they'd date someone for years before saying it, Toby was not one of those people. He fell headfirst quicker than you'd ever seen, it wasn't simply juvenile first time dating love, he was completely enamored by you. Invested in you, living every moment by your side with an excited vigor. He was earnestly in love with you. 

You had complicated feelings on love. Desperate for it but still careful with the idea of it. Toby and you were literally inseparable due to circumstances, you wouldn't be forced to leave him in the dust unless the Operator wanted you dead. You could live out your future with him, through thick and thin just like you always wanted to with Jen. He wasn't Jen though, he was her complete opposite. Disorganized, rough around the edges, a manic murderer for a living, you'd only known him a fraction of the time you knew Jen but the deep bonding that came with going through the same trauma together was quickly making you thick as thieves. Quickly throwing you in love, desperate for it in your dark times. You were falling in love not because it was an option available to you, but because everything about him was so easy to fall for, you weren't forcing yourself to develop deep feelings for him, it was just happening and you didn't mind at all. 

You weren't ready to say I love you without an 'I think' in front of it. As much as you wanted to be in it, you wanted to be completely sure, you wanted your confession to be just as meaningful to you as it was for him.

You and Brian had yet to say your I love you's. That was fine honestly, you felt like you were both on the same page of being slow to be completely sure of your feelings. You both wanted to be completely sure of your place to the other before saying anything, and you liked it. 

Tim and you were far from that, if he actually even liked you at all. Things between you two were painfully awkward. He hadn't gone back to rudely playful insults with you, good. That'd be him trying to be comfortable, unchanging, leave your discordance in the past and pretending it didn't happen. Instead you both let the awkwardness wash over you both whenever you were in the same room. It was a change of pace, a silent agreement to be better to one another. You could be better to one another once you got over the initial bump of awkwardness that came after a big fight. Both parties wanting to make amends but still hurt from the interaction. He took bounding steps in the right direction whenever he'd ask how your leg was doing or give you a hello instead of completely ignoring your presence. You returned his awkward show of respect, telling him you were fine and giving him greetings in return.

"Think I love you too." You shot back his words of affection, he grinned with a sweet giggle. Your heart fluttered, how could one person be so cute? Leaning back into his chest, humming contently at the sensation of his fingers playing with your hair.

You found yourself curious, hungry for more information on what he remembered, the more you learned about them the faster you fell in love. You were just a tad over excited at the prospect of being sure of your feelings. "What do you remember from before all of this?" You didn't add anything too specific, having an inkling whatever happened to him was deeply traumatic. Whenever Tim was hurt too badly he'd have a complete meltdown, there had to be a cause. 

"Hmm." Toby drummed his fingers on your scalp, he didn't sound upset in the slightest. With a scarily casual delivery he told you, "I th-think I killed both of my puh-parents."

Oh. _Oh._

Another use of the phrase 'I think' he believed that's what happened, but couldn't remember in explicit detail. You wondered if he'd ever completely remember. If it hurt to know he had loving family in the past but they were gone now and he couldn't even remember them, just the idea of being loved.

"Toby, oh my god." You gasped out, he didn't sound too upset or happy over the news, it was just an unsure fact of life for him. That didn't change the fact that in your head it was tragic, "I'm so sorry." 

His chest rumbled lightly against your back, breathy laughs shifting your hair, "It's oh-okay!"

He sounded genuinely amused by your concern, he wasn't laughing to brush you off or make the moment less tense. When Tim got hurt he'd broken down, but that was an extreme trigger he could see; it wasn't an idea of a person, it was a person he cared for and looked up to in pain. With a heavy heart, you began to believe that normally he just didn't care and only when it came down to a heavily triggering event, would he actually care and think about what happened. 

He delivered another round of news, starting with a more lighthearted tone, "I th-think I _really_ loved my mom though-ough." Another use of 'I think', he was unsure of his true feelings towards his own mother. At least he didn't deliver the information like it was the weather, he delivered it like he was reminiscing about an old friend. Twirling your hair between his fingers, he continued with a less chipper tone, casual hared, like he was gossiping about someone being mildly rude to him in public, "My dad's a dif-different story." You heart a soft ' _pop'_ from above you as he jerked his head to the side, "I'm pretty sssh-sure I hated his guh-guts." So he did care to some extent about his personal relationship with his parents. It was just a diluted kind of emotion, understanding how his past self felt but without too much information to know exactly how he felt, just a basic understanding.

You were going to give him another apology, unsure of what to say. Despite the fact that most fathers were garbage, it was always a subject to approach carefully.

He continued, voice sliding into the one of the sadistic masked man who chased you down so many times, "Th-that's why I beat his fuh-face in," He growled out with a conviction and hatred that sent chills down your spine, your body tensing under his touch, "And sstuh-stabbed him sss-so many fucking times." His hold on you was still gentle but his hissed out words, sure of he'd done, terrified you. You didn't want to get up though, you couldn't but also it was very obvious talking about his father was a sore spot for him. You'd be here for him, even if he scared the shit out of you when he talked like that. He let out a bitter laugh, "Do you wanna-na know what his la-last words were?" 

He didn't remember much, but the fact that he remembered his fathers lasts words before he slayed him was chilling. They stuck to his demented mind, you hoped it didn't tear him up too badly. You let out a quiet, "Sure?" Scared but wanting to let him air out words of hate for the man.

Toby's voice took on an obnoxious jersey accent, gruff and loud, _"Stop! Get off of me, you little fucker!"_ He finished the chilling sentence with a snicker, not the wholesome giggle you were used to; it was a rough grating laugh that made your hair stand on end. He could hardly remember his father but reciting his last words brought him joy, a man he hated slain by his own hand. 

"Oh." You didn't quite know how to respond to the demented topic. If killing his father was cathartic due to his hatred for the man, you wondered what happened to his mom, if it hurt him to think about. You didn't dare ask. The mood had shifted into something you weren't too comfortable with but you'd grin and bear it for his sake. 

Thankfully, Toby quickly dropped the subject, loosing interest in the topic of his suffering father in favor of talking about you, "Sss-so!" He chirped like he hadn't just laughed about killing his dad, "What was it like fuh-for you gro-growing up?"

You didn't even noticed that you'd tensed under his change of demeanor but the second he flipped back to his normal self you felt yourself relax. "Oh uh," You weren't quite over what he'd just admitted to, needing a moment to formulate a summary of your own experiences growing up, "Fine?" 

"Hmm?" Toby hummed, a soft nudge for you to further elaborate. You remembered your past all too well, he wanted to know about it, about you. Like he'd said, so he'd fall more in love with you.

Your heart fluttered at the gesture, getting over the shock of new information didn't take too long. He'd done a lot worse than that and you were used to taking these things in stride at this point.

"Pretty okay, except for the whole Dan thing." You huffed out the dead man's name, you hadn't forgiven the rotting corpse. He'd set in motion where your life would lead, getting your first love killed and leading you to here, miserable but not alone and very loved. You didn't know if you should hate him for eternity or be oddly grateful for the understanding company you finally had.

With your thumb idly swiping back and forth on his stubbly jawline, Toby spoke, "Du-didn't you sssuh-say he tormented you or sssuh-something?" There it was again, the slight dip in his voice that stepped into dangerous territory, resentment. 

You were a little surprised he remembered the words you spoke of Dan, using the word tormented just like you had. He didn't seem the type to word things like that, it just showed you how close attention he'd paid you. Even when you were tied to a chair, telling him how much you hated him.

"Yeah." If Dan hadn't beaten on you so much, you would have been such a different person. You let out a bitter laugh, reminiscing about the good ole days, "I was like his personal punching bag." You felt Toby stop playing with your hair. Talking about killing his parents was one thing, something he could somewhat handle and had a grip on but with you he didn't know as much. He wasn't as desensitized to your suffering. "Hated me, made sure I knew it." You were always shocked that your nose didn't end up slightly crooked from all the times he'd punched it. Hell, even having all of your teeth was a miracle with that guy around. 

His hands fell away from your hair and snaked themselves around your waist once more. Instead of picking his hands he held you in a tight embrace, burying his head head into your hair. Nose and lips pressed into your head, shifting around the (h/l) strands as he breathed. You pulled your hand from his face, bringing it to gently rest on the arms that held you. 

The embrace was tight, almost painful but it wasn't there just yet. He spoke without sadistic joy, just spilling the words out with hatred for Dan and a love for you, a hushed whisper against your hair, "I'm so ffuh-fucking glad I cut his he-head off."

Toby made you feel safe, sometimes. Despite his love for you, he was still a terrifying person who delighted in pain and suffering. You remembered what he told you, not letting Dan scream, vocal cords fucked up as he tried to wiggle away. The mental image made you shudder. You didn't quite know how to respond, nobody deserved to die like that. Even with all that he'd done, all the lives he ruined, including yours. Hearing Toby express relief that his method of killing was a good one was concerning. You knew he loved you but it made you question the sickening idea if he'd kill someone over you. The answer was probably yes. Each of them was desensitized to murder, killing someone for or over you wouldn't have any of them batting an eye. It was a scary thought that you didn't want to endorse. 

Opening your mouth to ruin the already darkened mood, Brian opened Toby's bedroom door. Toby lifted his nose from your scalp, looking to the older man. You looked to Brian with wide eyes and a face that practically screamed ' _help me'._

Quietly shutting the door behind him, Brian approached the bed with a, "Hey."

Toby let out a, "Hi." Muffled by his mouth still pressed into your head. 

"What's goin' on?" His eyes were on you, taking in your expression before he hopped onto the bed. The mattress groaning and sinking under his weight. 

Toby propped his head up, resting his jaw on the top of your head and loosening his vice like grip on your torso. "We were ju-just talking about," You felt his body shift with a tic, you assumed he'd rolled his shoulders back, "(Y/n) gruh-growing up." He left out the part where you both talked about his past. Brian had already shown to know what the boys upbringing was like, he probably didn't need to hear a rehash of it.

Brian hummed, scooting up to you and Toby with a smile, "Ooh. I know a lot about that."

" _What?"_ You blinked at him, he had no problems telling you that he'd stalked you before. 

"I kept tabs on you for a while." Brian informed you like he was asking about the weather. Casual and not like it was a creepy thing for a grown man to stalk a teenager at the time. 

"Excuse me Brian?" You raised your brows and let your mouth hang slightly ajar. He was there the night you crushed Isaac's head in, he'd admitted to stalking you but the thought never occurred to you that he could have stalked you back in the day, that he'd seen you other times besides the cabin and that night. 

"I watched you on and off for awhile," His crooked grin was far too cute for someone talking about how they stalked you, "For about a year or so." He leaned back on his hands, not hiding the fact that your dumbfounded face brought him clear amusement, his eyes sparkling.

"Why?" You were only slightly afraid that such a dangerous man had watched you. You never picked up on his presence either, which made it all the more eerie. After the incident you were a paranoid mess, the fact that someone had been watching you during that time made you feel a little sick.

"Well," He clicked his tongue, "It wanted me to watch all of you after that night." You knew exactly what he meant, glad he didn't feel the need to go into detail about people and events you'd rather not think too much about. Especially after thinking so vividly of one of their killings, bloody and brutal. "It has me or Tim do that whenever it's interested in people." 

"Like for consideration?" You questioned, this was a perfect opportunity to learn about the twink bitch who ruined everything. Escape hadn't been your main priority the past few days but it was still on your mind. You still wanted to figure out how the great all powerful unknown worked.

"Think so." Brian shrugged as you heard a faint ' _pop_ ' from one of Toby's knuckles, "I don't really know its exact thought process, just do what I'm told." An opportunity that led nowhere because Brian didn't know. Which shouldn't have been surprising, the thing didn't need to fill them in on its motivations.

You hummed with a curt nod, hungry for more knowledge but it was less about learning about the thing and more about your future.

"So, how long can consideration go for?" You shifted your head to get a better look at the man, awaiting a response. You still weren't over the whole him stalking you in high school thing but you wanted to get to this first.

"Years." His response was quick, firm, very sure. He must have known you were trying to get information out of him, seeing if there was a way you could cheat the system. You could tell by the way his eyes bore in to you, practically telling you to stop, that all of this was unavoidable and you should stop worrying about it. 

"I was th-the fastest consideration right?" You felt Toby shift his head to look to Brian, a keen sense of pride in his voice, like being considered was some sort of race.

"I don't really know about the others." Others? You pondered about the word could mean a moment before realized an eldritch entity probably had a lot more proxies working under it than just your boys and possibly you. "But as for all of us, you were the fastest." Brian gave Toby a quick nudge with the elbow. Being considered was a horribly traumatic experience but in Toby's head he did something right. Quickly earning the twigs complete favor, if you call it that, he'd probably just caved faster than the rest of you. A weak mental state probably didn't help him in the fight against it's will.

"Only tuh-took me a couple weeks!" Toby exclaimed like it was a badge on honor. You knew that none of you enjoyed your situation but he'd probably take the backwards and hollow victory where he could get it. It just made his murky circumstances sadder, it made you wonder if he killed his parents before or after he was starting to be considered, if he was filled with static and fear. 

"Took me a couple years." Brian did his best to return the boys enthusiasm over the topic but it was a clear sore spot for him, his grin dropping slightly.

You could be in this state of uncertainty for a long time, you didn't want to think about all the shit that entailed.

"So," You clicked your tongue, ready to change the subject to uncomfortable grounds but much better than the topic of comparing time suffering, "What did ya think of me of high school me?" This was about to get embarrassing if he saw all the shit that you did when no one was around. Or if he saw cringe worthy interactions, literally anything from your teenage years.

A smile returned to Brian's face, bright but full of mischief. Oh god no. You didn't know what yet but he knew something. You were filled with terror. 

He clicked his tongue with a playful raise of his brows, "Well (Y/n)." Your stomach dropped and you felt yourself frown. You found yourself praying to a god who never came in your time of need. "You were a lot different." Instant relief washed over you, thinking he hadn't seen anything too bad.

"Ooh! Hah-how?" Toby seemed to jump at the idea of learning about you. It was sweet but there was still a slight suspicion you had towards Brian. He wouldn't have that sort of smug smile on his face and _not_ be up to no good. 

"Well she kept her stubborn streak." Brian looked to you with warmth in his eyes. Looking at you with adoration as he riddled off things he knew about you because he stalked you, creepy but sweet. "Less of a loud mouth," That wasn't true by very much but it was, "Kinda boring to watch honestly." You didn't know if you should be relieved or offended. Boring meant he didn't see anything too bad. "Except." 

_FUCK!_

"Brian." You spoke in a warning tone, gaze hardening while your guts churned. Him admitting to stalking you, that was something you could manage; but if he was going to tell another human being about something you preferred to forget you were going to curl up and die. Forget about all your perseverance due to old memories coming back to haunt you. 

His grin grew and his eyes seemed to glimmer mischievously, your heart fluttered but you were terrified, "Yes, honey?"

"Don't you fucking dare." The sickly sweet pet name caught you off guard, you felt your face flush deeply and your threat wavering nervously. He'd never called you something like that before, but you were still on edge and you wouldn't let him him embarrass you like that.

Embarrassing moments happen to everybody, it's a fact of life. However, Brian had to have stalked you around your junior and senior years of high school. During one of the worst years of your life. Right after you and your first love broke things off because you were murderers. You made a lot of bad choices trying to find catharsis and a rebound. Desperate to fall into the arms of another, the unhealthy coping mechanism of a freshly traumatized teen.

"I'm just telling Toby what he wants to hear. Isn't that right Toby?" Brian smirked looking to Toby for backup.

The boy chuckled at your mild discomfort, "Yeah I just wanna knuh-know more about you (Y/n)." He slid his head off the top of yours, letting it rest on your shoulder. You could see his face now, his smug smirk told you that he caught onto Brian's drift that he knew something horribly embarrassing about you. He wasn't going to protect you from the cringe, he lowered his head in order to watch your reactions, to watch you squirm.

You shook your head with a vigor you didn't know you had. If your assumption was correct and by Brian's horribly knowing smile, it was, he knew about the dumbest thing you'd ever done to get a girls attention. In you desperate situation you'd all but forgotten about it, thinking of cringe worthy moments wouldn't help you so you hadn't looked back on them. Yet with Brian's suggested knowledge of one you were seriously hoping he didn't know but probably did, the memories came back to you. A pained look crawling its way onto your face.

You pointed a finger at Brian, "You bring that shit up, I'll walk the fuck out of here." You said, knee practically purple with bruises and painful to bend. You were serious though, you were not going to sit here and take this kind of abuse. 

Brian's head and shoulders were suddenly across your lap, weighing down your thighs with his chest while Toby's grip around your waist grew tighter. The motherfuckers knew how bad your decision making was and decided to hold you down in the most affectionate way possible.

Brian gave you a toothy grin while you shook your head, and spluttered out weakly, "Fucking don't."

"Toby have I ever told you the story of (Y/n)'s first girlfriend?" It was the story. Jen and you didn't get the time to label yourselves as girlfriends. Your first 'official' girlfriend was a fucking disaster upon a mountain of poorly conceived lies because of her big titties and your trauma. 

"No, I don't thuh-think you have." Toby played along much to your chagrin.

"Brian no please!" You wailed, the horrible thing you did was known by a few. Mostly her friends who she gossiped to about your admittedly horrible actions but to know Brian saw was a fucking nightmare.

Your desperate pleas only made Brian chuckle. It would have been creepy due to the fact that he'd learned all this from stalking you but you couldn't care less about the creep factor. "Well it started like this."

" _BRIAN!"_ You desperately screamed, pushing his shoulder fruitlessly, you wanted to forget how much of an asshole you were. As a quintuple murderer, you sucked but back then you only had one kill under your belt and thought that the pain you went through doing said slaying justified what you did. 

_**Thud!**_

 _"What the fuck is going on in here?!"_ Tim slammed the door open, the wood smashing into the wall with a shudder. His nostrils flaring and eyebrows slanted downward, a snarl on his lips. He was his usual loud asshole self with a hint of a parent trying to bust their kids for doing something nefarious. Although, he acted like he didn't care, Tim didn't have to come in and check on all the yelling you were doing. He was either worried you were hurt or wanted in whatever fun you were having, as long as it wasn't something that would warrant him to have the desire to bleach his eyeballs. 

In your desperation you called out to your leader, your final hope, shoving all the awkwardness aside you cried out, " _They're fucking bullying me, Tim!"_

You could both go back to being awkward and not insulting one another later. If he told them to stop they'd listen. Since he was looking to make it up to you by not being a dick, he just might. That'd be a major step in the right direction in your book. 

Brian lifted his head to look at Tim, "Yeah we are." He smiled at the man knowingly, "Do you wanna join us? I was just about to get into some very _interesting_ details about (Y/n)'s past." He rolled the words off his tongue, speaking innocently but there was clear malintent. 

Tim blinked, relaxing his facial muscles. He pondered a moment, he could leave and miss out on the bonding over your stupid teenage self or he could join and be apart of the group he led. As cringe worthy as it was, you hoped Tim would stay to learn about you. To show that he cared about your upbringing to some extent. Get to know you better even the parts of you that you'd rather him not see.

Curling his lip back and making a show of observing your forced cuddle pile, he spoke with a hint of disgust at the display, "I have nothing better to do."

He didn't insult you, which was good because insulting you was his norm. Your relationship was developing and his insults wouldn't help. He didn't say anything explicitly about the pile of you, Brian, and Toby as he walked into the room, pulling out the chair pushed into the art desk. He sat himself down backwards on the chair, leaning forward with his arms crossed over the chairs back. There was ample room on the bed but he opted to stay back. Adverse to affection at the moment and honestly you got the idea he was like a cat. He didn't usually cuddle up to anyone but being in the same room as them for a long period was his way of showing that he liked somebody. 

In the mornings him and Brian would get together in silence before Toby woke up, sitting right next to each other at the kitchen counter. As of late you hadn't been doing too much walking so you'd missed out on their quiet bonding. Though they probably appreciated their time alone together. 

He waited for Brian to continue with an unreadable look. Happy to be a part of the fun, the tension between you and him, the normalcy between him and the others, it was adding up to be an odd situation for you both. 

"Well." Brian began as you looked to him with a pained expression. You still didn't want him to vocalize your deeds but Tim was here now. The most distant person in the house stayed to hear the story. It'd be bonding, it wouldn't be an awkward silence, it'd be lighthearted even though it'd be at your expense. You'd grin and bear it, all to mend your relationship with the asshole you cared about but had yet to completely forgive. However, you did make a show of letting out a loud sigh, lightly smacking his chest with your hands before letting them lay still. You could feel the faint beat of his heart through his hoodie. It felt domestic, sweet, and for a moment you didn't feel like you were going to fucking die of embarrassment.

"I did my best to get all the details because honestly," He idly talked of stalking you, "It was the most interesting thing any of you really did and I may have," He pretended to contemplate his words, "Watched you more than I needed to because I thought it was _amazing."_ Brian, the hot multi-talented and capable man called you amazing which would have made your heart flutter if it wasn't said as a joke. It was amazing how long you'd kept up your shitty charade. He continued, "Also I had to keep tabs on anyone in your life to see if you told them and I was bored out of my mind." At the time you didn't know about The Operator's existence but Dan could have easily filled you in on more details. Even if he did, you wouldn't have spread knowledge of it, spreading its influence, word of mouth seemed to catch its attention.

"That seems like a lot of unnecessary work." You tried to speak as casually as you could, trying to keep up an act of dignity.

Brain hummed while Toby cracked his neck to side, "Yeah but it paid off. I got to see you pretend to not be able to read English for three weeks." 

Your lips pressed into a line, a pitiful squeak of agony sounding from the back of your throat.

"Excuse me? She fuckin' _what?"_ You looked to Tim still cringing, you reminded yourself you'd deal with the silly actions for him, for you relationship.

Toby lowly snickered, you could feel his head further lean over your shoulder to get a better look at your agony. 

"She told this girl," He shifted his gaze to you, eyes alight with delight, "Laura was it?"

"Laurie." You squeaked the name out, not being able to meet his eye. 

"Right, Laurie." You didn't expect him to remember the name of a girl you briefly dated a little over three years ago. "She pretended that she was Russian for three weeks and that she couldn't read English. Despite the fact that she was going to a high school where all the work was written in English." Brian clarified with a huffy laugh. 

You looked to Toby's wall like it was suddenly very interesting. Tim letting out a few sounds of mild disbelief but he didn't accuse Brian of lying. The thing about the boys and their deep bond is that they didn't lie to one another, there was no need to.

 _"Why?"_ Tim's words were directed to you, putting you on the spot. 

It wasn't small talk, it was a conversation. A painful one, but a conversation that wasn't hostile, you'd take your progress where you could get it. Forcing yourself to look Tim in the eye, you explained yourself, "I didn't know how else to get her to come over because we barley knew each other. She was new and didn't really know anybody, was stupid good at writing 'n shit." Saying it aloud made you seem like an opportunistic asshole, which you were, "So I thought that if I pretended I was an exchange student that couldn't read English she'd tutor me and like, come over ya'know?" 

Tim blinked at you with raised brows, that was a step up from the neutral expressions he always seemed to wear around you these days, "Three weeks?"

"Three weeks and four days." Brian clarified, he remembered the amount of time you went about your little circus act to get pussy but not her name. Astounding. This man loved drama.

"Wait, wait." Toby chimed, "How did no-nobody catch onto you pre-pretending that you couldn't read?" 

"She got her friends to play along," Brian beat you to the punch, he really had watched the drama unfold closely, "Don't know how but it was amazing." You had a feeling he got way too invested in your teenage romance, you remembered him proclaiming he was a romantic.

"I bought them a lot of food." You admitted lowly, he didn't know every little detail. Yet you were willing to fill him in for the sake of bonding and seeing all of them smile. 

"Jesus Christ." Tim sounded exasperated, he had a hand balled in his hair. Possibly feeling second hand embarrassment. It was pretty pathetic that you went so far to get some hot girl to take interest in you. You'd be exasperated if you were him too.

"(Y/n) you should do your Russian accent." Brian's suggestion made you groan.

"You pretended to have an accent too?" Tim's question kept up his exasperated facade but he wouldn't be asking if he didn't care. He was invested.

With a shuddering breath, you channeled your seventeen year old self, stupid, horny, and desperate, "Dah, I vanted to svell zee act." God it was so fucking bad. You sounded like a cartoon vampire over a stereotypical Russian.

Toby burst out laughing, burying his face into your neck, his arms tensing around you in a vice grip. His voice muffled by your skin, he spoke, _"Muh-maus,_ _your accent is ss-so fucking bad."_

Two smiles down, one to go. 

"Vaat do you meahhn Toby? Isn't vvis vee most conveening accent you've ever hhherd." You purposely over pronounced your words, only sending Toby further into a fit of laughter, his laughter shaking your whole body pleasantly. 

"Okay but did it work?" You looked to Tim, he was holding his chin in a palm now. He was more relaxed with the hint of a smile on his lips. 

"Yea." You reverted back to your normal voice, "She really believed I was Russian, came over to tutor me in English all the time." You can't believe you were at such a low in your young life you felt the need to lie about yourself so much just to get romantically involved with another human being. Then again, you were still young and letting yourself be cuddled by murderers, not much had changed. "I can't tell you how many times I pretended to not know how to read the word 'orange'." You remembered the way she softly giggled at your mispronunciation, it made your heart flutter. You always read it wrong just to see her smile. Again, things hadn't changed much.

"We dated for a week!" Tim didn't need to ask if it worked when Brian opened the story with the fact that you and Laurie got together. Either way, he was making efforts to talk to you.

"You know that she knew, right?" Brian burst your bubble with a laugh.

You looked to him with wide eyes, "Wait what?" You dropped the act after you broke up. She knew afterward for sure, but during? You thought you had her completely fooled.

He looked genuinely surprised, "(Y/n)." He tutted, blushing while he looked at you like you were the dumbest but prettiest motherfucker in the world, "She knew."

You felt your lips curl back and a muted scream rise from your throat. Looking back you always thought that it was surprising she never caught on, you never spoke any Russian. You knew fuck all about Russia itself, only someone with the brain of a peanut would be fooled. Seventeen year old you was fine with tricking someone like that, desperate and disregarding how it'd make her feel. There was a point of pride there too, somehow tricking such an intelligent person into believing your little charade. 

You believed Brian wholeheartedly, smacking your forehead. How could you have believed that she didn't know? "Oh my god. I'm so fucking dumb."

Tim bust out laughing, you snapped your head to him. Taking in his smiling face with a warm sense of pride. His eyes screwed shut, shaking as the laughter ripped through his body. You were glad your bad decisions could lead to seeing Tim cackling wholeheartedly. It was at your expense but you knew he wasn't being malicious. Opening his eyes, looking to you with something other than forced neutrality, happiness and disbelief, " _Are you fuckin_ ' _serious (Y/n)?"_

You didn't try to fight the stupid grin off your face, "I honestly thought this whole time that she didn't know til after we broke up." As cringe worthy as your thought process was, it was funny and you couldn't help but laugh along with Tim, with Brian, with Toby, your boys.

It took some time for the laughter to die down. When it did, Brian inquired, "Why did you break up?" He knew a lot but wasn't around for that part. The part you felt the worst about. "She was genuinely interested in you, thought you were funny. I never saw what happened to end it." His words only made you feel worse. She was probably going to call you on your shit but she never got to because you ruined things. 

"Uhm." You clicked your tongue, looking to the wall once more. "Just didn't work out." Your voice throwing itself up another octave gave away the fact that you were lying with ease.

_"What did you do?"_ Tim leaned forward in the chair, smiling. He really wanted to hear what had you lying and sweating like a whore in church. 

"Stuff." That wasn't a lie and it was an explanation.

"Tell us! Tuh-tell us!" Toby peeled his face from your neck, shaking you by the waist. "Tell us!"

"Tell us, tell us." Brian quickly caught onto his chanting, joining with a grin.

Tim joined in last, speaking with a soft smile at the three of you, "Tell us."

It was genuinely embarrassing and made you feel shitty about yourself. Then again, you were all horrible people, to hell with it. You'd tell them anything, you'd do anything to get closer to the boys you were growing to love.

"Alright, alright." You waved your hands in a gesture to silence them, they stopped their speaking but Toby still let out a few excited giggled.

You were relieved Brian didn't know how or why you broke up because if he did that would mean he might have seen you naked and getting slapped in the face. You weren't bashful about talking about sex, you were best friend with Sully after all. An absolute man whore who was the last person you'd told this story to. You missed him. 

With a sigh, you wouldn't keep your new and loving company waiting any longer, "So I was having sex with her," You clicked your tongue, looking to Tim for a reaction, "Doing the Russian accent, mind you. That it was my first time and I wanted to keep the act up." Brian snorted while Tim put his face in his hands, cackling. Toby wheezed out a laugh, only fueling you to continue. "I fucking," You took a moment to laugh and cringe, "I was moaning but like with a bad accent. Got too into it and-" You wheezed, the boys laughter was contagious. Your cheeks were hot with embarrassment but you didn't care, laughing with them all felt too good, "I was like, _'ah yes, Vennifer!'_ " You slipped the fake accent back on, it cracking with your laughter. 

"Jesus Christ (Y/n)." You heard Tim groan into his hands, you could see his creeping blush through his fingers. You were killing him with second hand embarrassment. "That's the worst thing I've ever fuckin' heard."

Toby parroted your shitty accent with a cackle, " _Ah yes, Vennifer!"_

Brian didn't comment, he just huffed out laughs with a blush and adoration in his eyes.

Their words only spurred you on, "And she was like ' _who the fuck is Vennifer?'_ And I was like ' _It's Jennifer!'_ " You were such an asshole, poor Laurie. She didn't deserve her first time to be ruined by you moaning out the name of your ex best friend, but that's what she got. "She was then like, 'w _ell who the fuck is Jennifer?'"_ You paused to take in their faces, all red and smiling. Tim had removed his head from his hands and now looked at you with a happy disbelief. "And I said," You continued, slipping on your shitty accent for accuracy, " _'Somevody.'"_

Looking back it was obvious why you went to such an extent to get with her, she was just as smart and witty and she looked like Jen but with bigger titties. Except Your love hungry, asshole seventeen year old self sought her out and broke her heart. "I was not surprised when she slapped me."

They'd tried to quiet their laughter when you retold the story with vigor but at your failed attempt to deadpan the last line, all of you lost your fucking minds. Airing out your dirty laundry was rough but you had a great time doing it, laughing with them, not just Toby and Brian. Tim was here too. The whole gang, no one left out. You loved being with them.


	39. 38 - Morning Grind

**Content warning: NSFW / Heavy NSFW mentions**

**There will be warnings before and after the NSFW content begins and ends. There will be _heavy_ references to the NSFW content after it ends.**

It was like human touch could ward off the nightmares. Somehow your body knew when it was being held, whenever it was you'd sleep like a rock. As sleep pulled itself from your body, you'd always know if you were going to wake up to being cuddled. You'd be warm, well rested, feeling safe and secure.

Your eyes peeled open, head resting comfortably on a hard chest that steadily rose and fell. His heartbeat softly thudding in the ear that was pressed into his soft cotton shirt. One of your arms had thrown itself across his chest, Brian's chest, clutching onto him like he was a giant teddy bear. His arm was wrapped protectively around you, his hand rubbing slow circles on your back as you blinked up at him with a smile. 

Brian was focused on a book that he held open in one hand. Hazel eyes scanning the text, a content smile on his face. His hair was a short mess of bedhead, you smiled at his relaxed state.

You idly wondered how long he'd been awake. When you didn't wake up wrapped in his embrace he'd be in the kitchen with Tim already, Goober already walked and lazily sitting on the couch. He was an early riser and you knew it. Did he wait all this time to not disturb your peaceful slumber?

"You're staring." Brian let the book shut in his hand, placing it on the nightstand beside you both. Eyes now locked with yours, smile growing at your softly dumbfounded face. You hadn't seen him notice you but he somehow knew. 

Waking up well rested to his beautiful face was a welcome good morning. You smiled, lazily bring your head up from his chest, adjusting your arm to hold him better, "I'm not sorry bumblebee."

Brian let out a huffy chuckle, chest shuddering pleasantly. He brought up the hand that once held the book, making a beckoning motion with two fingers, "Come here." He spoke softly, still giggling as he did so.

You pushed yourself up with the hand that wasn't wrapped around him. There was no way you were going to pass up a chance to get a kiss. Hand pressing into the mattress, you scooted your body forward with a smile. Brian met you halfway, shifting and leaning down to meet your lips in a quick peck.

It was only quick because you got a whiff of his slight morning breath and recoiled with a scrunched nose. You'd done a lot of horrible shit, you literally ate human flesh. However, you wanted to be playfully mean about the fact that he'd yet to brush his teeth. All because he didn't want to disturb you, which was incredibly sweet and made your heart flutter. 

"Nice morning breath." You murmured as you pulled away, smiling and feeling great. 

Brian pouted fakely, "You know it's not that bad," He made another beckoning motion, "Come back over here." 

You didn't need much convincing to go in for a kiss but you wanted to play a little hard to get, sliding your arm off of him and pushing yourself up.

"I'm going to go brush my teeth, you should too bee boy." You pushed yourself up with the hand that rested on the mattress, bending your good knee to further push yourself up. You could walk a bit better now, an awkward hobble. Although you preferred to be carried when the option was available. Firstly, because it was a tender touch that would sometimes result in getting a smooch. Secondly, it was better for your weak knee. 

Just as you were going to scoot off of the bed there were hands on your waist. You turned to see Brian sitting up, looking down at you with a smirk.

"You're not going anywhere." He dragged you closer to his body, your front pressing into his side. One hand sliding to rest lazily on your hip while the other wrapped under your torso, hand resting on the small of your back.

Now this was some good shit, but you did want to brush your teeth. Playing hard to get was paying off though, so you wanted to see what would happen if you took it a bit further. As he leaned down to steal a kiss you put a hand between the two of your faces as a makeshift barrier.

"You're not allowed to kiss me on the lips until you brush your teeth." His morning breath was hardly noticeable, you just liked the drama of it all. 

He raised his brows at yours words, "Really?" It was less of a statement of annoyance and more like an acceptance of a challenge.

_"Really."_ You tutted back, keeping the hand hovering between the both of you. It was nothing to somebody like him, but he'd respect your playful boundaries. 

The arm the was wrapped under your torso lifted you ever so slightly as Brian shifted. His head no longer in front of your face but now buried into the side of your neck. You didn't get to ask him what the fuck he was doing because you felt two lips at the base of your neck. You let out a surprised sigh, it didn't feel bad in the slightest, your body filled with butterflies at the sensation. Brian pulled his warm lips from your skin only to press them onto your neck once more, just above the last spot he kissed.

The hand that had been hovering as a blockade moved, holding onto the back of his head. The sensation had your nerves in a tizzy but you clung onto your earlier words with a weak and fake protest.

"I said don't kiss me, dummy." You spoke while actively tilting your head, giving him easier access to your throat.

He let out a chuckle, pressing another kiss into your neck. When he pulled away, just barely away from your skin, hot breath on your neck and voice husky, "You said not to kiss you on the lips." Another warm sensation was pressed into your neck, your fingertips dug into his hair. His body shook as he breathily laughed at your reactions.

Heat was rising in your cheeks, feeling him smile against your skin, "That's playing dirty you know?"

You chastised him but not pulling away from his touch, instead you leaned into him with a sigh as he pressed another kiss onto your neck. Sending a soft wave of pleasurable electricity though your skin.

"If you think that's playing dirty then." Instead of elaborating, he pressed his lips into your neck once more. Instead of pulling away, he opened his mouth and softly nipped at your skin. The sensation was only slightly painful but the surprising pinch of teeth on your neck felt more like a hot wave of dopamine washing over your flesh.

In the heat of the moment, only thinking of Brian, his teeth on your skin, you forgot about what you'd done. What happened the last time teeth were on a neck. The context was completely different, as was the mood, as was the person doing the biting.

Your fingers clutched the back of his head at you let out a surprised squeak. The vibrations of his laughter, muffled by your skin, only told you that your actions spurred him on. His teeth further dug into your neck.

" _Brian."_ You breathed out his name, cheeks hot with the welcomed feeling. Everything you did seemed to further spur him on because the second you said his name he was softly sucking on your skin, teeth still digging into you.

The nerves of your neck were firing off, pleasantly sensitive. He increased the pressure on your neck, sucking harder, his tongue grazing the skin he'd latched himself onto. A moan pushed itself past your lips, your free hand coming up to the side of his face. Gently grabbing at his stubbly jaw, suggesting he let go. 

He obeyed the silent command coming back to where he once was, inches from your face. Looking smug at his achievement, you had a feeling he left a mark and was quite proud of the sounds he'd pulled from you. Your neck was tingling, warm and wet from the soft assault. Both of your cheeks were red but not hot with embarrassment.

"Kiss me." You commanded, eyes on his grin.

"I thought you said that you didn't want me to kiss you on the lips til I brushed my teeth?" Your eyes shot up to his as he cheekily informed you of your own words. He was playing with you now, rude. 

You didn't have a clever retort, you just wanted his lips on yours, " _Brian."_

The weak growling of his name had him devilishly grinning, hazel eyes sparkling in delight, "Yes, honey?"

You threw his words back at him, leaning in while he watched you smugly, "Come here." You pushed yourself further up onto him, one hand tangled in his hair while the other rested on his cheek.

Brian closed the rest of the gap between the both of you, lips pressing into yours. Harder than before, less wholesome intentions fueling the both of you. Mouths parting and flowing together, you could feel him smile against you. Content with his achievements. There was no slow and tender start, lips pressed into on another with a desperate vigor. Every wet smack had you wanting to move faster, kiss harder but you did your best to keep yourself in control.

Before you could part your mouths another time, the wet tip of his tongue swiped across your bottom lip. Just barely there but it still had your will crumbling and lips tingling. You somehow kept it together, keeping your lips sealed shut with a grunt that told him no. The bastard had played you so easily, you weren't going to let him get what he wanted so easily.

Soft skin vibrating as he throatily chuckled at your attempt to keep your shit together. He played dirty once more, quickly nipping at your still healing lip hickey given to you by Toby. The painful shock had you part your lips with a gasp, you didn't hate it. 

His tongue slipped between your open mouths, you gladly accommodated for him with a soft moan. His grip on you tightened with the sound, lips pressing into one another as he teasingly swiped his tongue over yours before quickly retracting it, leaving you wanting more. 

The cocky bastard wasn't going to have it completely his way, you were determined to show him what was what. Still kissing him, your moved your hands off his head and to his shoulders. Using him as an anchor to pull yourself up. His grip loosened on you, snickering against your lips as he caught onto what you were doing. You threw one leg over his lap, your bad knee dully ached but it didn't mean shit when your mind was completely preoccupied. The second you settled your weight on his lap, he pulled back so both of you could breathe.

**NSFW Begin**

Foreheads pressed together, looking at one another with hot cheeks and half lidded eyes. Morning breath was the furthest thing from your mind, you wanted him to kiss you again. Instead of instantly getting back to smooching, this time with you straddling him, his hands shifted, ghosting across your clothed skin. The touch was teasingly light, you wanted him to touch you with more than just his finger tips. Two hands gently fiddled with the hem of your shirt, you leaned your body forward into the touch, practically asking him to touch you.

"Is this okay?" Brian softly asked, you caught onto his drift pretty easily.

When you climbed onto his lap it was to show him what was what, not to fuck with you. Make him stop being such a hot bastard but all it did was leave you hot and bothered, wanting his hands and teeth on your skin. You wanted this desperately.

" _Please."_ You breathily begged, instead of breaking him down, he broke you down and was ready to turn you into a mess with just his lips and calloused hands.

At your begging command, he let out a pleased growl, both of his hands finding their way under your shirt. The image of him swiping his tongue across his lips was a fat reminder of how badly you wanted his lips on yours. You didn't have to move much until your mouths met once more, pressing hard into one another, mouths open. He ghosted his fingertips across your goosebump filled skin, the soft touch was electrifying but so teasingly soft. He knew what you wanted and was going to use that against you.

You opened your mouth the second you felt the warm hint of his tongue on your bottom lip. He was less subtle and teasing with his kiss now, letting out a content hum while you needily ground your tongue into his. Back arching slightly at the sensation of your tongues sliding around one another, hands still slowly traveling up your stomach but quickly closing in. 

Calloused fingertips grazed the bottoms of your breasts, the subtle touch felt overwhelming on your over sensitive skin. You moaned into his open mouth as his tongue dominated yours, showing you what was what. His hands seemed to meld themselves to your skin, fingers and palms traveling lightly over the curve of your breasts. Right before he would have touched your nipples, his hands shifted, cupping the tender flesh. The touch had you gasping and bucking your hips ever so slightly into him. The movement had him growling lowly, vibrations spreading pleasantly though your mouth while you were alerted to something pressing into your inner thigh. 

Tongues pulled back so you could focus on one another's lips, fast and desperate. You felt his thumbs shift on your skin, quickly flicking over your attentive nipples. The sudden feeling of light pressure on your sensitive breasts sent a pleasurable shock through your system. You moaned, hips grinding into his. The thin fabric of his boxers not doing much to hide the growing stiffness that pressed into your thigh. At the sound and action he pulled from you, he decided to go after your sensitive flesh even more. Rolling his thumbs around your nipples in slow teasing circles, laugh vibrating against your lips and you gasped against his lips, " _Brian."_

As you rocked your hips into him once more. Desperate for friction and more of his touch, your hands tangling themselves in the hair at the base of his neck.

**_Thud!_**

"Hey, do you both want any coff- _oh my fuckin' god."_ Your heads snapped to the now wide open door, Tim holding it wide open and staring at your compromising position. Again.

You threw yourself off of Brian's lap with a small scream of emotional agony. You all but threw yourself on the other side of the bed, trying too look less suspicious. He already saw that Brian's hands had disappeared into your shirt, that you had been sitting on his lap. You were red in the face before for different reasons, but now it was because of embarrassment.

"Learn to knock." Brian deadpanned at the shell shocked man, crossing his arms lazily. Brian put up his wall of apathy when he was upset, he was trying to act like he wasn't freaking the fuck out but you knew he was thoroughly embarrassed by the way his arms shook and his cheeks were red. 

Tim blinked in disbelief at the both of you, the goosebumps on your skin dying, the happiness gone. Your head was in your hands as you groaned.

"Well!" Tim sounded exasperated and terrified at the same time, "I wasn't expecting to walk in on you both fuckin' at nine in the morning!" Tim all but waved away his digressions, putting the blame on you both.

"We weren't fucking, oh my god Tim." You wailed the weak defense into your hands, it was true but given a few more minutes it probably wouldn't have been.

**NSFW End**

Tim clicked his tongue, " _Anyway,"_ All you could think about was how much you wanted to curl up into a ball and cry for sixteen hours, "I'm going to go have some coffee. You two uh," He couldn't look at either of you, "There's some leftover coffee if you want any." He didn't continue to acknowledge what just happened. Instead he quickly shut the door, leaving you and Brian alone again.

You were all but crying into your palms, embarrassed as fuck from being walked in on by Tim twice.

" _Oh my god."_ You wheezed, shaking your head in your palms. " _I'm going to die."_

Brian just clicked his tongue, probably at a loss for words. You both stayed like that awhile, dying inside and not touching. Brian was the first to move, the bed shifting under him as he got up. You glanced up from your hands to see him grabbing clothes from his dresser, he was going to change and go out there. Brian was braver than any US marine.

Earlier that week, he'd brought the suitcase from the living room and into the corner of his room. He was a real gentleman about the whole sharing a room thing. Always leaving for you or him to change clothes. There was a general consensus that since you were going to be sticking around awhile all of you would need to go clothes shopping for you soon. 

Tucking the clothes under his arm, he approached the door. Before he opened it, he turned to you with a small smile and a vibrant blush across his cheeks, "We'll have to pick this up another time." You'd agree but your throat felt like it had constricted shut, "Probably not tonight." You weren't going to suggest that at all, too enraptured in your embarrassment to even think about that. You pulled your hot face from your hands as he explained, "I don't have condoms anyway so we wouldn't have actually done anything in the first place." He dropped that bomb on you with a smile, hand on the doorknob.

"Bastard." You wheezed out, it was jokingly but you were having a hard time laughing after Tim's intrusion. 

He chuckled, padding from the door and over to you. Your lighthearted insult spurred him on. Once he was before you, he bent down one hand on your face, the other gently resting on the tender flesh on your neck. You tensed under the touch, it had the developing hickey dully pounding as your flesh tried to sort its shit out. He pressed a chaste kiss on your lips, once again nipping at the lip hickey.

God, you were so fucking over hickeys but not really. At the soft bite, you gasped against his lips, body coming back to life and telling you that you needed his touch once more. You leaned forward as he pulled away, letting out amused huffs from his nose, "You're fun to tease."

"Jesus Christ Brian, shut the fuck up." You put up a facade of irritation over your desperation, but your voice still wavered, he knew what he was doing. He just smirked at you, heading back for the door. You put your head back in your hands, you were at your fucking limit.

Wheezing out a laugh, he opened the door and left without a goodbye. That was fine, you wanted to be alone as soon as possible to rot away in your horrible embarrassment. 

You snatched the nearest pillow, slammed your face into and screamed.

Toby practically burst Brian's door down the second he was awake, which had only allowed you a few minutes to scream away your embarrassment.

"Muh-morning (Y/n)!" He practically yelled, scampering up to you, ready to drag you to the kitchen for breakfast. You assumed he went to the kitchen, saw you weren't present and immediately ran to retrieve you, at some point slapping a bandage over the gash so he could eat. He used any excuse he could to pick you up. You pulled your face from the pillow, looking to his grinning face.

He didn't seem to know about the encounter you'd had earlier that morning as he wasn't acting awkward about seeing you. That or he literally didn't care, both were plausible.

"Hey." He may not know or care but Tim sure did. You'd have to face him eventually, might as well go out now and rip the bandage off. 

Toby threw his arms around you in a practiced motion, eager to have you in his arms, "You sssluh-sleep alright? If you didn't you sh-should sssluh-sleep in my bed!" God you didn't want to think about being in anybody's bed right now, the innuendo hitting you where it hurts. "It's the ssuh-softest." Him trying to convince you to sleep in his room just so he could cling to you like a koala to a tree was adorable, but you were too dead inside to be charmed.

"I slept fine." You answered as he took out from the threshold of Brian's bedroom. It was true, you slept great. You always slept good when you were being held or holding someone, mattresses didn't matter. "How about you?" You were thankful that you'd slept in sweats and the same t-shirt Brian had lent you, the one that spoke of fish and women. You didn't need to get dressed because you hadn't slept in your underwear like Brian had. 

"Bad druh-dream." Toby informed you as you traveled down the hall, "The one I told you abah-about with the fire and sccruh-screaming lady." You looked to him, a frown twitching on his lips. You wondered if the screaming lady was his dead mother. 

Telling you soured his mood a bit, he didn't keep up his near constant chatter as you both entered the kitchen. In this household, there are no secrets to hide so Tim and Brian did not stop their discussion when Toby carried you into the room. 

"I'm just saying," Brian informed as he set a (f/c) mug down in front of the stool you'd deemed yours, "If the door is shut and you know we're both in there, _knock."_ Toby set you on your stool, bad knee aching as it bent.

_"Excuse me Brian? What's that supposed to mean?"_ Tim blathered out, only briefly glancing in your direction with pink cheeks. You averted your gaze as well, your eyes falling to Goober who lay curled up around Tim's leg, his tail thumping at the sight of you. At least someone was glad to see you.

"Wait wh-what?" Toby sauntered over to the counter next to the coffee pot, where Tim or Brian had already set out a full mug for him. He looked between you and Brian for a few moments. You could see the gears turning in his head.

"The same goes for if shes in Toby's room." Brian continued much to your chagrin.

Tim let out an obnoxious sigh, running a hang through his dark hair, " _Oh my fuckin' god don't talk about Toby like that."_

Toby sipped on his coffee, eyes darting between all of you. You preoccupied yourself from the awkward situation by sipping on your coffee.

"Tim he's an adult." Brian deadpanned, "He can have sex if he wants to."

Choking and sputtering with a cough, you slammed your mug on the counter with a ' _thud'_ , beating a hand on your chest. You knew what they were talking about, that they all preferred to not beat around the bush but you didn't expect that. A hand had slapped itself over your mouth to keep any of the liquid from being spat passed your lips.

Toby did not do this. A pressurized spray of coffee and spit was squirted on Tim's face as he let out a sound that was a laugh and explanation of surprise. You supposed the idea of sex hadn't crossed his mind, he knew what it was obviously, but he'd never been in a relationship before. He was probably so excited with just kissing and holding hands that he forgot that sex was an option. 

"Toby for fucks sake!" Tim recoiled back, face now covered in specs of light brown. Eyes screwed shut and snarling at the hot liquid on his face, he wiped his hand across his face, trying to rid himself of the heat.

Toby cackled at the older man's mild discomfort before looking to you with raised brows, "What's this about _wh-what?"_ You couldn't tell if he was grinning at what he'd done to Tim or the sudden proposition that you did not bring up. This was not how you wanted your morning to go.

You were still beating on your chest, letting out rattling coughs. You don't know how this could get any worse.

Brian brought his mug to his lips, just barely hiding his smile behind it as his shoulders bounced with breathy laughs.

With a raspy voice you began, "Stop looking so smug, fucker. There is _nothing_ to be smiling about right now." You gave him a weak snarl, you couldn't bring yourself to laugh, this was too painful.

Brian snorted, putting his mug down and bringing a hand to his lips which struggled to keep his coffee in as well. He quickly swallowed, "I mean," He clicked his tongue and continued completely unashamed, "I just got a _great_ good morning from you, _so_."

Tim sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, "Jesus christ," he looked to you with a scowl, "(Y/n) do you even know his last name?" Weird question, but you were rolling with the theory that he was so sexually repressed that knowing something like that actually mattered. Like if you didn't know his last name it'd somehow be worse of a situation.

"Well," You said with upmost confidence, "Of course I d-" Then it hit you that you fucking didn't. Oops. "Oh shit." You looked to Brian, kinda ashamed you forgot to ask about his last name before grinding on his dick but weirder things have happened. "I don't know your last name."

Brian chuckled with a crooked grin, he didn't care that you didn't ask at all, but he was living to watch you squirm, "It's Thomas. Brian Thomas."

You looked to Tim just barely meeting his eye and dumbly proclaiming, "His last name is Thomas." 

Tim had cleaned his face off, yet there was still a bit of sticky residue on his skin, " _Oh my fuckin' god._ You motherfuckers. I'm going to shower _. Bye."_ Tim sighed in a hiss, bounding out of the room, leaving you embarrassed with two very smiley men.

You let out a horrible moaning wail into your hands as you brought them to your face, the sound of Tim's door closing in the background. " _Oh god it hurts."_

"You're cute when you're flustered." You heard Brian smugly claim.

You looked up from your hands as a grin spread across his face, giddy with a predatory glint in his eyes.

"What's this about ssuh-sex again?" Toby looked to Brian as well, looking mildly shocked about the prospect of sex still.

Brian gave you a crooked grin, "You can both can figure that out later. Toby you're coming with me to go shopping for groceries today." Brian finished, chugging the rest of his overly sweet coffee. Setting his mug in the sink before padding across the room, Goober standing from the spot where Tim left him and lazily following Brian.

Toby let a whine, "But what abuh-about-" You knew if Brian let him stay home the second the two of you were behind closed doors, he would pounce on you. Although he seemed to be shell shocked over the idea, maybe he'd wait awhile for the initial shock of wear off before he made a move.

"Condoms, Toby." Brian informed the younger man who stared at him, slack jawed. He really was shocked about the idea of sex, it was kinda cute but also sad. It wasn't that he was just a virgin, it was that he was so sheltered that the topic of sex being brought up was a surprise for him, a welcome one but a surprise nonetheless. "Also we're out of creamer and bagels."

Embarrassment showed itself on your cheeks as the boy perked up, "Ooooh!" He looked to you with his mischievous grin, " _Ohohohohoho. I sss-see."_ Brian approached you as Toby continued, " _Going ssh-shopping sss-sounds good."_ You were going to loose your fucking mind, these horny motherfuckers.

 _"_ We'll head out in a sec, I need to grab my wallet." Brian stopped by the door, close to your seat, "You're staying here," He looked to you still smiling, "It'd be a bit too much walking for you." From a thirsty dog to your personal nurse, the range on this man was insane.

Suddenly, a quick pinch was felt on the tender flesh of your neck and you let out a yelp. Jerking away, seeing Brian's fingers in a very obvious position for pinching.

" _Oh fuck you!"_ You laughed it off, embarrassed still but humor was returning to you.

"Be patient." He waved you off with a smirk before turning to Toby, "Be right back." He entered the hall with Goober trailing behind him, leaving you and a teenage boy who just remembered he had a dick.

Toby rolled his shoulders back as he sauntered over to you. He set his mug down beside yours and plopped into the stool next to you. He leaned on the counter, resting his hand on the side of his head, trying to act casual about the whole affair. The thing is, Toby didn't have any sort of tact when it came to subjects like these, you weren't expecting anything smooth from him. Not like you'd take it anyway, you were so embarrassed you thought you were going to pass out any second now. " _So."_

"Toby I swear." Talking about these sorts of things with partners was always a good idea. Just not when you wanted to die a little bit from embarrassment. 

"What?" He gasped, playing innocent, "I'm ju-just talking to you." He had a shit eating grin across his face, bandage crinkling cutely with the movement.

You gave him an unamused look, you were down to talk normally though so you began, "How are you?" Small talk was the one thing you were banking on, hopefully changing the subject.

"Good, anyway," It did not work, "What's with you nuh-neck?" He may have been sheltered but under the topic of sex and the sudden appearance of a bruise on your neck, it was probably pretty obvious. Or maybe Toby genuinely didn't know what a hickey looked like as you assumed he had no experience with them except for the one on your lip, showing actual concern.

Sighing, there was no use lying in this house, the boys told each other pretty much everything.

"Hickey." Toby was suddenly a lot more interested in looking at your neck instead of meeting your eyes, "Brian fucking bit me." 

"Hey c'mere a sss-sec." Toby wasn't slick at all, the wolfish grin across his lips, the way he straightened up and leaned forward. His eyes never leaving your neck. It was like a predator stalking it's prey and you were _not_ having it. 

You let out a laugh, cheeks not being able to cool down. The sudden idea of receiving another hickey wasn't a bad one, but you were still a little mad about them embarrassing you so badly in front of Tim.

"I'm not gon-gonna do anything I ss-swear." He obviously bullshitted, coming closer, eyes on the side of your neck free of bruising. Toby had always been a bit possessive, not jealous when you gave the others attention, he just liked solidifying that you were his too. 

You chuckled at him, not moving away. You could deal with the embarrassment later after all. The two of you were alone anyway, you liked what Brian did to you, you'd take any kind of love where you could get it.

"Uh-huh, sure." You rolled the sarcastic words off your tongue, tilting your head to the side to give him easier access.

He was just about to pass your face when he looked into your eyes with a knowing look and a raise of the brows. One hand on the opposite side of your neck, pressing into the fresh bruise from Brian. The other firmly holding onto your waist. You couldn't see his face anymore in an instant, him sinking his head into your neck. Lips pressed once again hyper sensitive skin had your hands on the back of his head, softly tangling themselves into his hair. Then he parted his lips, teeth grazing your skin before they dug harshly into your flesh. 

"Ah fuck!" You jumped under the sudden pain, his canines easily piercing your soft skin. You softly patted the back of his head in a slight cringe, he was biting you a bit too hard, you could feel pinpricks of blood seeping out around his teeth. That was not how you gave someone a hickey. "Toby that hurts."

His jaw unclamped, you were glad he listened to you and didn't just keep on biting. It was a reminder of Sully, dulled by raging hormones, but still. Instead of instantly pulling away you herd him hum. The bite wasn't the worst pain you'd ever just a slightly aching sting. Something wet dragged around the indents of teeth. You yelped, it was oddly soothing on the fresh wounds but surprisingly, not in a bad way. 

He pulled away, grinning showing off faint hints of blood of his teeth that his tongue smoothed over and licked away. "Sss-sorry." The apology was half-assed in your opinion, sorry he hurt you, but not sorry about surprised you. 

"You're fine that's just not how you give somebody a hickey, Toby." You brought your hand up to your aching neck, marks on either side of it. 

"Then ssh-show me." He tilted his head to the side with a smile, eager to learn how to give a proper hickey from the fucking cannibal. Well, he said he ate somebody once too, there was no shame in being a biter in this house. 

A smile graced your lips, finally a chance to show one of these horny motherfuckers what was what! One hand lightly gripping his hair, the other placed itself on his shoulder for support while you leaned forward. Mimicking Brian's earlier actions, you pressed a few light kisses onto his skin which earned you a soft sigh. Taking that as a cue to continue, you parted your lips on his skin. You didn't open your mouth to the wide extent that he did or immediately sink your teeth directly into his flesh. Instead you sucked on his skin, lips creating a seal, lightly lapping your tongue over his flesh. There was no salty taste that came with sweat as Toby had the inability to do so. Instead his skin didn't have much of a taste other then the very faint hint of cocoa butter body wash.

At the feeling of his skin being sucked on he let out a soft moan, the vibrations from his throat playing lightly over your lips while his grip on you tightened. This only spurred you on to bite down onto the now tender flesh, it wouldn't give him a slight jolt of pain but the pressure could be pleasurable. You could tell it was, because he let out another pleased moan, man he was vocal. 

You ceased the activity with a soft ' _pop',_ pulling your head away.

"That's how." There were light indents of where your teeth had been, a slight sheen on his skin from the saliva, it was only faintly red. Hickeys took a few minutes to properly show themselves after all. Finally able to see his face, red and dumbfounded you chuckled, got him. "You got all that?"

He blinked, coming back down to earth with a nod that shifted his curls.

"Alright! I'm gonna get some cereal." You pulled away, Toby letting you slide out of his grip in a few moments of still being quite shocked. Going from single, to having someone to kiss, to getting a hickey in the span of a week had to be jarring. You understood being a little surprised. 

You stood, taking a few moments to be sure that you weren't going to buckle under the slight weight you put on your right leg. 

The sound of jingling keys alerted you to Brian's presence as he stood leaning in the doorway, and you idly wondered how long he had been ready.

Toby turned to him, "Oh right!" He completely forgot, you huffed out a laugh.

With goodbyes in place and lips pecked, the boys headed out. Leaving you home alone with Tim, eating cereal and feeling shame coming back to you in waves. If he saw you again today he'd definitely notice the second mark upon your neck showing off two rows of teeth. He moved about the house, you heard his bathroom door close as he went to his room to get dressed. Part of you really hoped that he'd stay in there, both of you ignoring each other for a week. You knew that wouldn't help, and facing your problems head on was a much better and mature idea. Although, if you were going to talk to him, you'd rather do it on a full stomach.

You didn't need to seek him out for what he'd walked in on, because Tim came to the kitchen. Stomach dropping at the idea of talking to him, you sucked it up, this was for your healing relationship. You brought your now empty bowl of cereal to the sink, Tim pouring himself another cup of black coffee a few feet away from you. The both of you were painfully aware of one another's presence, the tension was thickly awkward. 

You had to do this, make it right, " _I'm so sorry Tim."_ Speaking as firmly as shame would allow, pulling your hands from the sink. You leaned your weight on the counter, pressing a forearm to the cool surface.

Tim took a long sip of coffee, body turning to face you. You were glad the both of you came to a quiet agreement to talk like adults about the matter, not shyly looking away but deal with the discomfort head on.

With a sigh, he too leaned onto the counter and pulled the mug away from his lips, "I don't want to hear it."

"Huh?" He didn't sound angry, more mildly disgusted than anything but his words implied anger, you were confused.

"Don't talk to me about fuckin' Brian, please." He urged, trying to keep a cool composure. If the two of you banged or not, Tim didn't want to hear about it at all. Defending yourself like you had tried to to earlier wouldn't help.

Sucking your lips into your mouth, trying to choose words of apology that wouldn't further upset him, "I know that sorta thing makes you uncomfortable," You didn't need to vocalize Tim's obvious aversion to love and affection, "So I just want to apologize for making you uncomfortable."

You weren't going to just not apologize because he didn't want to hear it. It wasn't just for yourself and your few remaining shreds of dignity left, it was for him. When it came down to it, him walking in on a compromising position his two roommates were in didn't matter at all. It was embarrassing but ultimately wouldn't help any of you escape your plight. You were doing this because you cared about Tim and wanted him to feel comfortable. 

His eyes were glued to the sink a few moments, it was easier to look at him when he wasn't looking at you under your awkward circumstances. However, it'd be better for your developing relationship if he'd look you in the eye. You were still surprised that such an expert stalker and master of creepy staring couldn't make basic eye contact when he was embarrassed or being genuine.

Turning his head, finally meeting your eye he began, "It's not like it's the worst thing I've ever seen or experienced." A casual dismissal of his discomfort, but it was true considering his job.

Talking of sex and relationships involving him, you, and the others was unsteady territory. You were banking on his laughter from the story you'd told him the other night that he was fine with jokes involving the subject matter. You decided to shoot your shot, "What have you like," You cracked an uneasy smile at him, "Chased someone down while their dick was out or something?"

A hint of a smile mixed with disgust showed themselves on his face, "Twice actually."

You snickered, he waited for you to stop so he could continue. While he did, he watched you with a smile, you wondered if it was because he succeeded in making you laugh. He wasn't the funniest guy in the world but when people laughed at his dryly delivered jokes, he always looked softly happy with himself. Being charismatic was a challenge for him but that didn't take away from him as a respected leader.

"Once I got hit over the head by Alex, dick out." Tim wasn't the kind of person you expected to be the upfront about something like that happening to him. Then again they were always full of surprises.

You delighted in his smile as you cackled. The awkwardness was giving way to lighthearted conversation that wasn't full of half honest half joking insults, it was growth. You just had to ask, "Wait wait," You wheezed, "Were both your dicks out?"

Tim coughed out a laugh, "No, I'm not Brian." You let out a chuckle, wondering if Tim had walked in on Alex and Brian in the same sort of position just much worse. He tried to dryly deliver his words but was horribly failing, his neutral act was crumbling to the desire to be closer and friendlier. "I was peeing and he hit me over the head with a lead pipe."

You clutched your stomach, doubling over and practically crying at the mental imagery. Though he could be a bumbling idiot sometimes, you saw Tim as quite competent. You may have set his face on fire, but him falling into a situation where his dick was out and getting hit with a pipe didn't seem like the Tim you knew. It probably wasn't the best idea but in the heat of your laughter, you shoved rational thought aside and asked, "How'd you even get there? Like," You straightened yourself up still giggling, "How'd that all get started anyway?"

His smile fell but he didn't frown, he kept a neutral expression, processing if he should tell you or not. You were just about to apologize for prying into the sore subject when he sighed, running a hand through his hair and beginning.

"Well I was born," No shit, "Turned out I was schizophrenic." Oh shit. "Or it was just fuckin' with my head, it's hard to tell sometimes. Maybe both." He admitted, scratching at his jaw.

You remembered him bringing up a few times that the twig had been around his whole life. It puppeteered you for days on end, making you commit a horrendous act. You wouldn't be surprised if it could further fuck with somebody's head, make them see things. Perhaps The Operator was that powerful, able to inflict mental illness on it's victims. Or maybe it only appeared to already mentally unstable people, easy targets for it's manipulation. Weakening them, breaking them down like food and teeth, once they were isolated and fucked up, it could take them.

You'd only gotten general ideas of his past, names of people who he knew. You stayed quiet, no longer smiling as he continued, "Mom threw my sorry ass in inpatient. Felt like she had to, I don't think she knew what to do with me. Dad wasn't in the picture, all that shit." There wasn't much bitterness there towards his mother or father, his past was just a fact of life he'd accepted. "Was there for years. Ten to fifteen I think? Then I got out for awhile to go to high school." 

"Didn't get to go to school too long before it got bad again." You wondered if by it he meant the stick's influence. "Went to another place for awhile, got out again, finished high school, got into college. That's when shit hit the fan."

You watched him take a sip of coffee, staying quiet in hopes that he'd continue. "Met all my old buddies in college, Brian, Jay, _Alex."_ The contempt in his voice for the man was thick and heavy, "Everything was fine for awhile, until Alex brought up his shitty film script." He made air quotes, "Called it _Marble Hornets."_

You remember him or Brian talking about how he was a film major, that was such a bullshit fake artsy name. Definitely something a film major would come up with. You snorted out a laugh, "What kind of fucking name is that?"

Tim huffed, shaking his head, "A shitty one." He continued, "Then Alex got involved with **him** ," Tim didn't need to clarify, "He thought if he killed everyone else that it was watching, that it would somehow result in him saving the world, saving everyone."

Those were delusions of grandeur if you'd ever heard any. People around you died left and right but that didn't stop it from dragging you down into the gates of your own personal hell that didn't turn out to be so bad. Hell was pretty tolerable for you actually.

"Jay and I were together for years running from that asshole, kept finding us and trying to kill us." His original message of together was as partners running from a crazed film major, but you knew that he and Jay were also _together. "_ He shot him." Tim delivered the news of one of the men's passing with an air of lethargy, his eyes on the cup of coffee in his hand. You assumed it to be Jay, recalling that Tim claimed Alex's life. 

Him and Jay were together and he died. Though you suspected the events he told you of to be years in the past, he talked so evenly of it. A melancholic acceptance. You hadn't been in love with Jen for years, but her passing destroyed you. You'd only recently come to terms with her death and still couldn't speak of her demise so casually; your throat closing up even at the thought. He lost someone he loved in a horrible way, having him be ripped away forcibly, it was out of his control.

You had a sudden epiphany. He was scared for his friends, for you, your undecided future. Though they all believed that you'd be staying, the twig had yet to cast its official verdict, you could still die. He was worried that his friends would have to go through what he'd gone though. Heartbreak via death. 

"Then Brian died, though, that was kinda my fault." Tim let out a short laugh. It was still mind boggling how okay they both were with that. "Killed Alex," His voice dropped once more, dripping with old hatred, "Got away for a while but," He made a gesture with his arms, spreading hem wide, presenting, "Look where we are. Always catches up with you."

He finished his life story with a sip of coffee as you processed. From talking about getting hit with his dick out to knowing some more of the shit he went through, this morning was a fucking roller coaster. 

Setting his empty mug on the counter he looked to you and spoke with sincerity, "Those two are all I have left, you know?" It was a bit of a rhetorical question. Him telling you that he was scared for them, for you. If you died, you'd leave his pained partners in your wake, you'd leave him. 

You weren't going to back off though. The affections you and the others shared was genuine and wonderful. It tightened bonds, it brought smiles to faces, it was love in a hopeless place. Resilient and beautiful. Tim was a heartbroken bastard. He was scared of love and hated himself all the same, making a dangerous brew that exploded in both of your faces when you offered him in on the option of being romantically loved once more. He wanted to be, in the time before your attempted kiss you could tell, he wanted it so badly, but he held himself back. He must have seen how happy the three of you were, wanted in on it, but he was cautious, hurt. That didn't make up for his actions but it was good to further understand him.

You wouldn't try to take that first step again. If Tim wanted your love, he'd have to come to you in his own time. Wear his heart on his sleeve and allow himself to be vulnerable once more. You'd give him all the time and space he needed. Though there was still some lingering anger over his actions, you had a vague understanding of his needs.

Tim was wrong about one thing though and you let him know it. "I'm here too. You've got me too, Tim. You can count on me." Being the big sap that you were, you put a hand on your heart with a soft ' _thud'_. Giving him a soft smile.

Then he did something you didn't expect. He was a very touch adverse person but he knew that touch was incredibly meaningful to you. So he laid a firm hand on your shoulder that acted as bridge of camaraderie between the both of you. He took the first step, " _You can count on me too."_


	40. 39 - All Good Things

**Light NSFW Mentions**

It was for a mission, that's all. Is what Tim told you when the four of you arrived at the fucking gigantic shopping mall. Brian had informed you that the four of you were to keep an eye on this one specific person, to not bring them any harm. It was alarming to be on your first stalking mission, but the environment it was set in was a lot nicer than you were expecting. 

As a wanted criminal, it wasn't the hottest idea to leave the house without some sort of disguise. Your outfit was comprised of black leggings, sunglasses, a baseball hat Toby lent to you: white with a black brim, a yellow square with a black 'X' running through it sitting on the white fabric just before the hats visor. It was actually a great idea to give you a hat, you hid your hair beneath it and didn't have to look like a fucking teletubby with just your (s/c) face peaking out around black fabric, you could look somewhat normal. You also donned one of Toby's hoodies, all black, fit alright but was a little long on you as he was a lanky motherfucker. You rolled the sleeves up and Toby grinned at you the whole time.

Despite Tim having more muscle mass than Toby would ever have, he often joked that your leader was a manlet. You don't know who taught Toby the word manlet, but whoever it was is a fucking genius. Although, you wouldn't be surprised if it was your doing, saying the word in passing and Toby going ape shit over a new way to call Tim small. Tim was only a few inches shorter than Toby, it was barely even noticeable in your eyes, especially when Brian dwarfed them both by so much. Seeing Tim get a little bent out of shape about it but still trying to keep a cool head for the mission was kind of amazing. You did your best not to snort on the long drive over to the mall. In lulls of conversation Toby would shout out that Tim was a ' _fuh-fucking little man baby, manlet!'_ Tim would proceed to try and climb out of the front seat to choke Toby, Brian would always pull him back into his seat while still driving, slight grin on his lips as Tim mumbled obscenities, trying to keep himself calm. 

Entering a mall for the first time in what felt like forever was a jarring experience. The smell of shitty cologne as you passed by clothing stores aimed at twenty year old men, the mall goths who acted like they were way cooler than you'd ever be, old and young alike all under one roof with four murderers. They didn't know that, but it was still odd to walk amongst the normal crowd but then again, they'd never understand. Your circumstances took you quite awhile to wrap your head around but at least you had your boys in this overwhelming environment.

Brian pointed the target out to you as discreetly as he could. The only thing separating all of you and the target was people walking between you. Since this was a mission, all of them donned their work uniforms. Crisp, clean, free of blood. No masks or hoods were up, they were trying to blend in after all. You wondered what your work uniform would be, if it would choose it for you.

After following a few feet behind the target for a few minutes, she stopped. Leaning her fishnet covered elbows on the counter of a kiosk and smiling sweetly at the person behind the register. 

Tim scoffed, loosely crossing his arms, "This is gonna take for-fuckin'-ever."

You turned to your diligent leader, confused, "Aren't you used to this sorta thing?"

He shrugged, understandable, "Those two are dating," He didn't need to point out the target again who was leaning over the counter, chatting up another person working in a booth, "They talk like this for _hours._ "

He was already touchy on the subject of romance, watching some teenager obnoxiously flirt with her partner for hours must be rough for him, it'd be hellish for anybody. 

The target looked to be a young woman, her crappily died hair thrown up in a messy bun, completely relaxed and unknowing. If it was interested in her for whatever reason, that wouldn't last long. You felt bad for her, you only got to where you were by the skin of your teeth. She was probably as good as dead at this point. Her partner was another youngish adult, probably early twenties, absolutely covered in tattoos and piercings. You wondered if they were being watched too, if they were to be collateral damage. Back in the day you were and anyone you interacted with was looked into as well. You hoped that Laurie wasn't dead in a ditch somewhere because one time in senior year she had sex with you. It wasn't likely, but it could be a possibility, you hadn't seen the poor girl since graduation.

" _Holy ssh-shit. What is THAT?!"_ You were all supposed to keep a low profile but Toby rose his voice at the sight of something exciting. He had one hand on his head while the other pointed at a poster. The booth where the targets partner worked was some sort of mini piercing kiosk, Toby just seemed to pick up on it, probably distracted by everything else happening in the mall. The poster Toby pointed out showed a front and side view of somebody's face. Showing off all the piercings they could do. Mostly nose, lip, and ear piercings. 

"Toby, shut it." Tim wasn't doing a good job of also keeping a low profile, being already irked at Toby and the boy drawing attention to all of you had him a bit peeved. People turned to stare at your little group, Brian sidestepped in front of you, to block their view of the wanted criminal. Despite the drive to the mall being hours long, you ate a person roughly two weeks ago. In the media cycle, that was old news but with true crime freaks it was a fresh case to drool over every little detail of for years. You being out in public didn't automatically mean you'd get reported but it was for the best if people over looked you.

"Do you sss-see that sh-shit?" Toby hushed his yell to loud talking. Once groups of people looked away from the lot of you, Brian moved, allowing you to see the poster once more. There was another next to it, showing two women about to kiss, wearing the same earrings. Toby's head snapped to you, a gloved hand shooting out to snatch yours, "Couple piercings are ha-half off. Let's fucking get sss-some." He was practically bounding on his heels, about ready to drag you over, directly next to the target.

Tim put a hand on the boys shoulder, "No. We're on a mission."

"We can watch them but cl-closer." Toby argued, eyeing another piercing on the poster, "It'd be good uh," He mulled over this thoughts to get the right word, "Int-intel?" He snapped his head to the side with a slight grimace. Before Tim could refuse him once more, Toby looked to you, "Have you ever ss-seen sssuh-someone with that kinda sh-shit?" He pointed a finger to his nose, the skin between his nostrils, he was enamored with the idea of a septum piercing. You supposed his sheltered self would have never been too exposed to facial piercings.

"A couple times." Piercings like that were becoming a lot more normalized in fashion and popular media, you had some friends in high school and regulars at the diner that had them. 

"You dumb asses," Tim interrupted your little conversation, "No one is getting any piercings. We are on the fuckin' job."

Brian put his hand on Toby's other shoulder, pressing a wad of cash in his palm.

"Don't go too crazy." That was way more cash than your occupation paid, because none of you got paid in anything but suffering. He definitely stole that off a dead body.

" _Brain!"_ Tim hissed, sounding like a woman in her forties named Barbra who's keto coffee had sugar in it. 

"Buh-Brian!" Toby looked to the older man with a grin, then looked to Tim and stuck out his tongue.

"You little shit." You snickered as Tim halfheartedly hissed at the younger man. 

"He has a point," Brian tutted as Toby began to tug on your hand, "It wouldn't hurt to get closer. Talk to her partner." His words were analytical but the smile on his face showed you that he also allowed it because Toby was so happy at the idea of matching with you and getting some metal put in his nose. 

You stumbled a moment, knee buckling slightly as Toby began to drag you towards the booth. 

Shooting a glance over your shoulder, you saw Brian smiling following while Tim was left shell shocked, "Brian are you serious?"

He didn't respond. You wheezed out a laugh as Tim power walked to catch up to his partner. As the leader he could stop all of your shenanigans whenever he wanted. There was the ghost of a smile on his lips, seeing Toby happy was nice but he was still baffled. 

Toby patted his hand excitedly on the counter, catching the clerks attention as the other two caught up. There was a small spinning display of all the earrings that couples could get half off. It was really just buying on set of earrings as each person only got one. It was still pretty cheap though and you wouldn't mind getting an earring. 

As the clerk approached, looking longingly at their partner, Toby asked, "What do you th-think of that one?" He pointed a gloved hand at a pair of thin silver hoops. They'd just barley hang off the ear, simple.

"I think they're cute," You squeezed his hand, "Just like you."

He looked to you, mouth hanging ajar before he grinned, "Oh fuck, I luh-love you."

"How can I help you?" The bored looking clerk asked and Tim and Brian stopped behind the two of you.

"Put sssuh-some holes in me and my _girlfriend's_ heads!" Toby rolled the word off his tongue. You were together that was clear enough, but him using a tittle like that brought him clear joy, which in term brought you joy. Your heart fluttered, his smile, his oddball behavior, the way he always tried his best despite his circumstances to make everyone laugh, you loved him. 

_Oh shit you loved him!_

You tuned out the rest of his and the clerk's interaction, staring at his face. He was definitely chattering their ear off from the way his mouth moved at a mile a minute. Who knew that him probably annoying the ever loving shit out of some poor minimum wage worker would make you realize that you were in love with him? Life is funny sometimes. 

Thoughts preoccupied with warm and fuzzy feelings, the next few minutes passed without a hitch. You (got your right ear pierced / didn't need to get your ear pierced as it already was). Toby wanted to gush over the fact that you both were wearing a single earring from the same set but he calmed himself down long enough to sit down and get his nose pierced. Seeing Toby try to suppress his ticks was cute as well, focusing so hard it looked like he was going to shit himself. The clerk probably mistook it for pain that Toby couldn't feel as he jammed the needle through his cartilage. The clerk looked so tired with Toby's constant talking. 

Toby had chosen a thin silver hoop, akin to the one in his ear. Though the hoop wasn't a complete circle, it was ended on both sides by little spheres. It was a very edgy teen kind of piercing, perfect for a teenage murderer. You wouldn't deny the fact that Toby looked pretty fucking good with a piercing like that. He grinned at you when it was done pointing at it enthusiastically and rolling his shoulder, finally able to tic. 

"We're getting some too." Brian informed the clerk who was looking longingly at their girlfriend. Toby hopped out of the chair, grabbing you with one hand and fiddling with his new piercing with the other.

"We're what?" Tim scoffed at his side.

Brian ignored Tim's question and looked to the clerk, "We'll take the same earrings that my friend and my girlfriend got." The clerk did a double take, head snapping to Brian and away from their girlfriend. Looking visibly confused, Toby clinging to you after calling you his girlfriend and then Brian calling you his girlfriend. That wasn't something you saw everyday. 

Blinking a second, processing, probably wondering if Tim and Brian were also a couple or if they were just friends taking advantage of the sale. They nodded while Tim sputtered out a, "I don't want a piercing. What am I nineteen and dumb?"

"I heard th-that." Toby huffed out a laugh, arms now around you in a suffocating hug. Fiddling with the metal that hung from his septum. The flesh around his new piercings had stopped bleeding incredibly quickly due to the regenerative powers he had. As long as the piercings stayed in though, the holes that allowed them to be there wouldn't close up, probably.

"Toby's not dumb." You playfully tutted at Tim. Who gave you a doubtful raise of his brows while Toby gave you a peck on the cheek.

"Whatever (Y/n)." Tim huffed, letting Brian talk to the clerk. He could stop him at anytime but he didn't. He wanted to match with all of you but he wanted to also act like he was too cool for something like matching piercings. 

When it came down to it, Tim said, "I'm only doing this because...." He had no explanation that didn't sound like he really cared. Tim did care and he didn't want to hide the fact, he was proud of his leadership skills and the fact that you were all so close. However, he liked to come off as cool, impressive, mature. Getting matching piercings was a very teenage thing to do, not fitting his charade of maturity he liked to keep up. Though he said to hell with it and got the piercing to match with the rest of you. He also had a hoop on his right ear, you were ear twins. When you told him that with a grin he got huffy and red faced. Saying it wasn't a big deal. Adorable.

When Brian paid for him and Tim's piercings, you and Toby stood by them. Toby had an arm around your shoulder, leaning on you. Brian held your hand while you turned to a blushing Tim who stood beside all of you but not far away. The clerk was afraid of your power, glancing between all of you quizzically. 

You gave Tim a look of adoration, you were glad that he caved and got the piercings with the rest of you. He gave you a small smile back before his eyes darted away, looking at the target. She was boredly waiting for her partner to finish up with the lot of you. 

Brian drew a little smiley face on the cashier's copy of the receipt, bringing back old memories. This time you were on the other side though, not afraid of him as much, falling in love with him. How things change.

Her voice was deep for a woman's voice, smooth and pleasant on the ears, "Hey babe, I'm gonna go take advantage of that fat ass sale at Hot Topic." That was something you weren't surprised in the slightest to hear from someone with chunky knee high boots, and purple eye shadow. 

"Alright," They turned away from your group, interaction over, "I won't be off till six. Can you pick me up one of those GIR hoodies?" Was it still two thousand nine or something? Who still wears those things? This emo fuck sure wanted to.

"Yeah sure." She flatly replied, pushing herself away from the counter with a wave.

You thanked Brian for paying, Toby for the idea, and Tim for joining in as the lot of you followed the woman through the busy mall. You were supposed to draw attention away from yourselves but Toby and Brian took either one of your hands as you walked, Tim following close behind claiming that he was making sure that you were walking fast enough. Total horse shit, he just wanted to be near you. Onlookers stared at you, wearing sunglasses inside, holding two hot guys hands with another one hovering right behind you. Nice, but not good for the mission. No one looked at you for too long, there was no recognition in their eyes. Just confusion over which one of them was your boyfriend. It was all of them, but Tim just didn't know that yet.

The goth walked into store labeled in lit up black letters _'Hot Topic'._ You prepared yourself to see all sorts of badly printed t-shirts in reference to popular media. You wondered if in high school Tim or Brian frequented the store. Brian wore shitty t-shirts all the time, you wouldn't be surprised. Tim probably didn't have the time or didn't care with The Operator breathing down his neck. Toby probably didn't know what the store was, he didn't have any sort of reaction to it, preoccupied with fiddling with his new nose ring and swinging your held hands back and forth. 

Entering the store, everything was either black or an eye bleeding neon. T-shirt designs displayed along the walls, wracks of clothing littering the store. A few people loitering about here and there. The woman walked around tables displaying folded clothes and in between shelves of slasher themed jewelry. 

Brian let go of your hand under the guise to go watch the woman, maybe strike up a conversation like he'd done with you so many times. Tim scoffed at the clothing, despite the fact that he lived with Brian who had the worst taste in shirts. Well, Brian didn't wear shirts that proudly spoke of being 'Daddy's Princess' and not in a father daughter kind of way. Is this what kids were wearing nowadays? Fucking terrifying.

Toby didn't really care about watching the woman. On the ride over, Tim blabbered on and on about how Toby usually didn't come along for stalking missions because he was so awful at them. Constant twitching, needing to chatter, and being generally disruptive made it hard for him to be stealthy in the slightest. This mission didn't require upmost stealth as you were in public, he could be loud if he wanted, it wasn't preferable but it wouldn't draw immediate suspicion. 

You didn't exactly knew where you stood in the stalking department. You'd never done it before and the way that Brian and Tim spoke of it, it was usually really boring. So boring that Brian took as much interest in your high school drama that he could. 

Toby decided to drag you to the other side of the store. Once again, it didn't _need_ you to participate. For whatever reason, it wanted you on the mission. Which was admittedly suspicious. Your first mission hadn't gone too well, all of the boys getting fucked up. It'd been some time since that night,the boys had been on plenty of missions but you didn't go to any of them. None of those missions had any of them particularly hurt or out of sorts, you were suspicious. Your shitty boss sending you on a day out was something that was too good to be true.

"He-hey (Y/n)." Toby snickered as you pushed the thoughts away. You didn't like to think of yourself as paranoid, there was a looming sense of dread in your guts but you still wanted to do all you could do to enjoy the outing.

"Hm?" You pulled yourself from your thoughts to find your hand resting on the clothed breast of a black mannequin.

Toby's hand was over yours and he was looking to you with a shit eating grin. His other hand on the mannequin's other tit.

The last time you checked groping a mannequin's boobs was not a popular activity for couples to engage in. Then again, you weren't exactly a normal couple. 

Looking you dead in the eye, Toby squeezed his hand atop yours, making you grope the mannequin with him. You blinked, "Hey Toby, what the fuck?"

With a chuckle, he kept your hands on the plastic titty while employees and customers alike looked at the both of you with exasperation. Just another Wednesday in Hot Topic.

He pulled the hand that wasn't atop your from the fabric and plastic, reaching out for your chest. "You shh-should let me touch yo-"

You slapped his hand away, " _We are in public, Tobias Erin Rogers."_ You'd only heard his name used once before but Brian pulling it out on the young man seemed to let him know that he was in trouble. 

Snickering, letting his hand rest at his side, he continued, "Sss-so later then?" Ever since that morning he kept bringing up the topic of sex in casually crude ways. Which was as hilarious as it was terrifying. He had no shame. 

You'd been sleeping on the couch the past few nights. Mad at them both for embarrassing you the way that they did in front of Tim. It lead to you and the man having a talk about his origins, growing closer. However, their intent was not that innocent. You were kinda proud of the cold shoulder you gave to Brian for all of three hours before you caved. He thought it was really funny that you had a hard time staying mad at him, especially when he was so good at it. So then you decided to sleep on the couch, showing anger through a lack of cuddles. You were also terrified if anything happened, Tim would burst in again. 

" _Toby."_ Despite the fact that the both of you didn't need to watch the woman as much if at all, now was not the time to flirt. Also you were not going to talk about this in public, there were minors here. You weren't one of those nasty fuckers who would get weirdly sexual with their partners in public. It made you idly think of the people who'd have their partner in a collar and 'walk' them in public. God you hated people. 

Before the interaction could continue, someone tapped your shoulder a few times. You jumped, turning to see a smiling Brian, looking at your and Toby's intertwines hands resting on the mannequin's boob. You ripped your hand away from it, freeing yourself of Toby's soft grip.

Chuckling as you turned to him, he began, "Try this, I think you'd like it."

You may have been on a mission, but you didn't have that many clothes at home. You assumed that Tim was keeping an eye on the dead woman walking as Brian had quietly roamed the store, finding an outfit to fit your tastes. He held a folded (f/c) sweatshirt. You wondered if it had something dumb written on it. 

Brian held three other shirts under his arm, probably something he was getting for himself and the others. 

"Aw thanks bumblebee." You cooed, it felt normal, not like you were stalking a goth chick in Hot Topic as per the request of an eldritch twink. 

If you were at home he probably would have kissed you for calling him the sweet nickname but instead he chuckled and passed you the sweatshirt. You supposed he wasn't too big on public displays of affection or he was trying harder than Toby to not have people stare at you. You idly checked the clothing tag, your size exactly. Looking back up to Brian with raised brows, remembering that he said he'd watched you sleep before, that he stalked you for a year without you knowing. He probably had ample time to learn your clothing size and other creepy shit like that. That or he checked your size when he found out that you were going to the mall, wanting to make the experience of shopping go smoothly. Either way, he knew your size and you don't know how long he'd known that.

"Anytime honey." Softly chuckling at your mild distress at the knowledge that this was definitely not a lucky guess. You were safe with Brian, but the gentle reminder that in the past you weren't was a bit jarring. Despite that, you were happy things played the way that they did. It may have sucked but not you were in love with Toby and quickly falling in love with Brian. You had feelings for Tim that you didn't dare act on, but you welcomed them with open arms; still wary but not very angry anymore. He'd taken the steps to make amends and you appreciated it, your relationship flourishing in the new found bond and growing respect. 

Did Toby try to follow you into the dressing room? Yes. Did you let him in? No.

Throwing your accessories off as well as Toby's hoodie, you slipped the sweater on. It fit perfectly, he really did know your size. You turned to the mirror and let out a wheeze of a laugh. In bold white letters there was a message across the chest, ' _I'm he's'_ There was no context, nothing else on the back. You had no fucking idea what it meant but the little face with heart eyes next to the text told you it was a romantic thing. Possibly Brian's attempt at flirting via his lovably bad fashion sense. 

You peeled the shirt off of your head, folding it up once more. You went to grab Toby's hoodie.

"Hey." You shot your gaze to the floor where the voice came from. The sight before you was alarming but you shouldn't have been surprised. Toby was crawling under the dressing room door on his forearms. 

"What the fuck are you doing?" You squeaked, snatching his hoodie from where you'd let it rest as the boy completely pulled himself into the dressing room with you. Despite not being a functioning member of society and peoples opinions of you not mattering outside the boys, you hoped to god that none of the poor employees had to see a grown ass man army crawl under an occupied dressing room door. That'd be an embarrassing encounter with security. Explaining to them that he didn't understand boundaries or societal norms. 

"I want you to try this sh-shirt on." He pushed himself up to his feet, holding a wadded up bundle of fabric in one hand. 

"Okay." You clicked your tongue, not knowing entirely how to respond. His intentions didn't read as grossly predatory, more like an overly familiar friend who didn't give a shit about social norms, which he was. Except you and him were more than friends.

He handed you the shirt, you hung his burrowed hoodie on one the the stalls hooks. He had yet to leave, instead he was taking in your shirtless form.

"Can I help you?" You huffed out a laugh, not particularly shy about yourself, it just wasn't how you were envisioning any of them seeing you shirtless for the first time. 

As a sheltered nineteen year old boy, he surprised you by not only staring at your breasts. Sure, they were clothed by a ratty sports bra but they were there, somewhat visible. That didn't mean that he didn't look, it was just a bit less than what you were expecting, his eyes scanning your entire form. 

He probably wasn't going to leave and would want to see how the shirt looked on you the second you put it on. "Turn around."

Snapped back to reality by your words he grinned, bandage shifting with his smile, "Why? I've already sss-seen everything."

Solid reasoning, but it was something new to you, to be so blatantly ogled at by your hot murder boyfriend. You weren't complaining, kind of reveling in the pleasant surprise, but you weren't going to completely endorse his advances in public. Although you were in a room with a closed door. 

Pushing the idea away for now, you playfully rolled your eyes. "Turn around or I won't try it on."

That had him huffing but spinning on his heels, even throwing his gloved hands over his eyes. "I have turned arah-around!" Dramatic ass bitch. 

You giggled, pulling the shirt over your head and wiggling your way into it. You finally pulled it over your body and looked in the mirror, not knowing what to expect. It was a bit more form fitting than you expected, then again Toby didn't seem the type to remember niche details about you like what clothing size you were. You knew for sure that this kid didn't really give a shit about TV, so he had no idea who the characters were on the shirt. He preferred to talk to you or the others for entertainment, only halfheartedly tuning into whatever soap opera you were watching and scribbling on paper. It wasn't like Brian's chunky TV had channels like that anyway, you know that Toby saw the pretty swirling colors, grabbed the shirt, and found you as quickly as possible.

It was adorable, he saw something he thought was cool so he wanted you to try it on. Sweet, but he didn't understand the deeply painful history of the things the fans the fans of ' _Rick and Morty'_ had inflicted upon this fucking planet. Mostly screaming at poor fast food workers about chicken nugget sauce. You'd seen the videos, you experienced the second hand cringe. 

You still wanted to check though, "Do you know what this shirt's from?" You looked from the mirror and to him, back still turned to you and hands unnecessarily covering his eyes.

"Nope! Sss-saw it and thought of you!" _Holy fucking shit you were so in love with this little idiot._

If Toby wasn't so cute and considerate, you wouldn't be fine with wearing the printed t-shirt. It was some cartoon old guy holding open the eyelids of some nervous looking kid. A block of mixed swirls of color all around them, it was very Toby's style, psychedelic and confusing. 

You didn't feel too bad about it, your fashion sense was known at times to be god awful. You just weren't expecting to be wearing merch for an adult cartoon with way too much popularity and fans on Reddit that think they have an IQ of one hundred twenty. You'd wear this shit for Toby because you loved him and his cute smile.

You called out to him, "Alright turn around."

He turned so fast he practically gave himself whiplash, a grin on his face and hands away from his eyes. The shirt itself didn't particularly bring out your eyes or accentuate your appearance, you looked like a normal person who'd made a few bad choices. Did that stop Toby from looking at you like you were Jesus Christ incarnate? No.

"You're so fucking puh-pretty." He sighed, looking you up and down, nothing had really changed about you other than your shirt. This wasn't about your change of dress, he thought it so he said it, that's how Toby was. "Do you like-like it?"

"I love it." Fuck waiting for a 'perfect moment' to tell him what you knew. Things were rough and your time may be limited, every moment wasn't perfect with him but this was a pretty fine way to confess love. In a Hot Topic dressing room, slacking off on a mission to stalk a mall goth, _"And I love you."_

It was true, it was real, this was happening. You were in love with somebody and they loved you back. For the first time in years, with more time to grow that love more than a single day. Heavy warmth spread across the surface of yours eyes the second the words passed your lips. 

Hands were on your face, fabric tenderly caressing your cheeks. You smiled at him, he smiled back pinpricks of tears at the corners of his eyes. He didn't have a good view of love before you came around. Not remembering much of its impact on his life but leaving him with a sour taste. Then he fell in love faster then you'd ever seen anyone fall in love and you fell quickly behind him. He was overjoyed with the idea of you considering the idea of loving him back but the real thing, you knowing, you confirming it, it had him hitching a breath.

_"I love you too."_

In a manner that was very him, Toby wasted no time to close the space between you. As your lips met, you put a hand on either one of his shoulders, pulling the one you loved close. Just because the moment was sweet and tender did not mean that Toby didn't almost immediately try to shove his tongue in your mouth. His love language was touch and cutely obnoxious acts of affection, you weren't surprised.

Giggling against his lips, you opened your mouth and let him in. His piercing coldly brushed against the skin of your cheek as you moved about. Warm tears had rolled themselves down your face as you kissed, not just your own. He was getting spit all over the outside of your mouth as your tongues swiped across one another. With Toby you figured out why some people called making out 'sucking face', he was like a face hugger sometimes. Not that you minded. 

He pulled away sooner than you thought he would, he was all about kissing, it was his shit. You were expecting to be kissed till one of the others had to knock on the door to tell you the target was on the move. Instead he pulled away, letting out a short laugh at your dumbfounded expression. His thumbs glided across your cheeks wiping your few tears away with a warm smile before he tilted your head to the side gently.

"What're you doing?" You let out a laugh as his breath tickled your neck. You had a good idea for what his plans were but you both probably should leave the dressing room soon. You didn't want some poor employee checking in on you only to hear suspicious sounds from the dressing room, you weren't looking to traumatize some teenager. Although for now, you didn't hear anybody else in the dressing room. Which you knew wouldn't last very long.

"I've been pruh-practicing what you sh-showed me." His lips brushed against your skin as he spoke, slightly wet with his saliva. 

"Practicing?" You knew what he was getting at but you knew damn well he wasn't practicing on anybody.

"Yeah on my pil-pillow." The answer had you snorting and wheezing out a laugh. He sucked on his fucking pillow just to figure out how to give you a hickey.

"Alright," You laughed, "Show me."

_"AY! YOU TWO!"_ Tim's voice boomed down the corridor of dressing rooms, so much for not drawing attention, " _WE GOTTA GO!"_

Despite not being able to see the man, you head snapped in the direction of his voice. You sighed, letting your hands slip off of Toby's shoulders, "Fucks sake man."

You don't know if Tim just had a sixth sense for things like this or what but it was getting impressive, scary, and annoying. He didn't yell anything else after that. Though you did hear murmurs of employees talking about his sudden outburst.

The two of you weren't important to the mission but you knew that Tim and Brian would want to keep an eye on the both of you. Toby didn't understand social boundaries and could easily cause a scene while you were a wanted woman in a shitty disguise. No one had taken notice of you yet but the possibility of something going awry was too high if you and Toby were left alone together.

"I'll sh-show you later." Toby was only momentarily deterred before shooting you a wink that looked more like a pained blink. 

"Oh my god you're fucking adorable." 

Toby didn't leave as you threw the shirt off and put his hoodie back on. He seemed quite pleased looking at you, the mission somewhat forgotten as you threw his hoodie over your head. You didn't ask him to turn around again for the sake of efficiency and the look in his eye was interesting, exciting but you could get back to that later. He tore the tags off of the two shirts before stuffing them into his own jacket, making him look suspiciously lumpy. The employees didn't give a shit. Good on them for not caring about the minor loss of a mega corporations money. 

You still didn't know the target's and you didn't ask. It was dehumanizing, it further detached your mind from the fact that the woman you'd been hovering around for so long was probably going to be dead in a week or two. You felt shitty about it, the coping mechanism of ignorant bliss. Maybe it'd get you used to being a proxy quicker, if you didn't make it out. You were still determined to do so, just with as little mental damage as possible. The less you knew about her, the better. 

Brian and Toby had gone to the bathroom's while you and Tim walked back to a table you'd chosen best for subtle observation. Bags of stolen goods sat in wait at the table the both of you approached. Stolen while the woman went about the mall, seemingly friends with almost every depressed teenage cashier. You don't know how they did it, but Tim and Brian were stupid good at getting the tags off of clothes, stuffing them into bags they somehow got their hands on. You supposed they did it because they didn't have much of an income from stealing off dead bodies.

You'd found out the context to the sweater Brian picked out for you. He'd snatched three shirts matching yours that read, ' _I'm She's,'_ you may or may not have lost it at that. Toby seemed excited at the idea of wearing matching clothes. Tim got red faced over the romantic connotations of the shirts but didn't reject it as they were all shoved in one of your bags. He said he'd never wear it but you had a feeling if you, Toby, and Brian all wore your shirts, he'd join in. He'd probably say some bullshit about wanting to match with the team and not about how he wants to be a part of the fun.

You and Tim held a tray each, two orders worth of greasy fast food on each of the red platters. You felt as normal as you could, you felt good. Even though you were walking towards a table a few feet away from the target that one of your boys would eventually murder. You turned to Tim as he listened with a horrified expression as you told him the happenings of the modern day. The shirt Toby snatched for you reminded you of the outside word, the one you walked though, and how fucking crazy some people could be. You spoke of screaming man children on McDonald's floors, chanting, and depressed employees. Brian had a TV and a computer, he could look into all the ridiculous shit that happened in the 'real world'. Tim looking slack jawed and concerned as you told him the last huge and dumb as hell news stories, and told you that they didn't keep up with the outside world. It was probably too painful to see all the things they couldn't have or see, normalcy with a side of chaos. 

You weren't watching where you were going. A body harshly bumped into your side and you gasped as you stumbled forward, trying not to spill food everywhere.

"Whoa!" You kicked out a leg trying to steady yourself but you knew you were going to fall. Then a hand clasped onto your shoulder and pulled up and back. The tray wobbled in your unsteady grip for a moment. You looked to Tim with a sigh of relief. You didn't get the time to express your gratitude as a short shriek had you whipping around.

_**Thud!**_

A frail form lay on the ground, face first. Wearing a multi color striped shirt and a tall hat with the same coloration on the floor next to her head, defiantly a fast food uniform.

"My bad, sorry." You put your tray on a table beside you, bending down to see if the person was alight. "You all good?" You asked as the person pushed themselves up with a groan. You held out a hand for them to take once they were ready, grabbing her hat in your other hand.

"Yeah, it's my fault," You knew that voice but it didn't click right away where it was from, "Wasn't looking where I was going." The soft voice of a young woman grated on your ears, you'd heard it before multiple times, somewhat recently. 

Finally turning to you and starting to hold out her hand to take yours, she paused and so did you. You'd seen her hundreds of times, usually fading into the background, the soft spoken type. The last time you saw one of your coworkers from 'The Hot and Crusty Diner', you tore his throat out with your teeth. The time before that, your other coworker's head was bashed into a counter top and throat slit.

Your old coworkers all had a bad streak of being at the wrong place at the wrong time.

_"(Y/n)?"_ She practically whispered out your name, you'd been recognized. Her face had drained of color, a terrified look on her young face. 

Fuck.

"April?" You stupidly responded, blinking at her behind your thickly framed sunglasses.

Not even hiding your hair hidden by the hat and eyes covered by black sunglasses could take away all the experience the both of you had waiting on tables. Though the two of you never really talked, you saw each other four days a week for two years. You didn't quite know what to do, mouth opening and closing over and over, dry as a bone. "Uh." You felt like you had to distract her, maybe if you bought time Tim could think of something to get you out of this situation. Though you didn't exactly know how he'd take back the girl's memory of you. She could scream any second now for security but she didn't, she was always the type to hate to bother people, to freeze up in bad situations.

"So," You started slowly, "I heard the diner got shut down."

You forced out an awkward laugh, that was partially your fault. The media painted you as Emile's killer, there was video footage of you setting a man on fire, and you were pretty sure the police suspected you of Sully's mauled corpse. She knew you and all that you were. The quiet terror in her eyes and the way her body shook told you so. 

"Yeah," She didn't take your hand, shakily pushing herself up to her feet, "I work here now."

The interaction was tense and awkward, she looked like she was about to bolt if you moved a single muscle. You didn't care to check your location on road signs as you traveled, you didn't know if you were close to Corydon or if you were far away. Maybe she moved away from Corydon, looking for a new start.

"Ah," You gasped with way too much politely fake interest, "That explains the little hat."

You tried to pass her the hat with a pained smile, your arm slowly reaching out to her. She took a shaky step backwards, eyes darting around, looking for something to do. She was terrified of you, and you realized with a jolt, that she was rightfully scared.

"Is there a problem here?" You didn't notice them come up behind her. Ripping your gaze from her terrified eyes, you saw Brian and Toby behind her. An apathetic look over Brian's features told you something was up. Something more than just getting you out of the mall as quickly as possible. 

Toby clarified eyes boring into the woman's head, "We're sec-security." That was a bald faced lie, a weak one at that. The two of them weren't wearing any sort of uniform. Well, they were wearing their uniforms but she didn't know about what their hoodies entailed. You could tell she was desperate for a way out, scared out of her mind. 

April turned to the men, " _Yes."_ She didn't even question the sudden appearance of 'security', she was desperate and scared of the big bad cannibal. 

Brian put a hand on her shoulder, "Come to our office." Wait what? "You can file an official complaint there." You knew that was the exact opposite of what they wanted, they were lying but why? You could just run, get in the car and go. Well, maybe not, the mission still needed to be carried out didn't it?

April shot you another glance as Brian began to usher her away from you. You blinked as she sped up her gait to walk in step with Brian, Toby trailing closely behind them both. You stood unmoving, watching their retreating forms navigate the food court. The whole interaction was speedy, suspicious. You were surprised April went with them. You were terrified of what was going to happen. 

"We have to go." Tim informed you sternly from behind, you turned to him. You didn't notice when he'd gotten your bags as you were so entranced by April's sudden appearance. The bags hung from his elbows while he still held the tray of food. You mat be leaving but he wouldn't want to waste the money you'd spent on food.

"Why? What about the mission?" You were more confused than anything but you still fell in step with him. His words weren't a suggestion from Tim, they were a command from your leader, from Masky. Your whole thing had always been giving him a hard time, telling him to blow you but right now you followed him. You trusted his judgement. 

None of the employees gave a shit about the two of you leaving with trays in hand. Tim didn't tell you what was going on until the two of you power walked into the parking lot. The sky was a deep lavender, the air cool, the parking lot still populated with cars. 

"Mission's over." He snapped the words out as you approached the mini-van, balancing the tray in one hand while pulling keys from his jacket pocket. It was a single key and not the ring of keys that you associated with the keys Brian always used, a spare. 

"Why?" You urged, stopping in front of the car door as he unlocked it, sliding it open.

He didn't respond, shoving his tray onto the leather seat before rounding to the back of the car and popping the trunk. He had been in a fine mood all day, but with the girls appearance he'd changed into the competent leader you knew he could be. You swallowed a thick lump in your throat as you climbed into the van, putting your tray of food beside his. You weren't very hungry right now, the lump of fear in your stomach making you feel queezy.

"Get in the front seat." Tim flatly ordered as he walked around the car. You hopped from the van, starting to piece things together as you slid the passenger door shut. This obviously had to do with April, Brian and Toby escorting her away. Tim's shift in demeanor, the commands, abandoning the mission. Did it count as abandoning it? Tim said it was over, but was it him calling that or the twig? You thought not, they did all the twink wanted them too out of necessity, failing a mission, abandoning it, would upset **him**. You didn't quite know of its temper, punishments, but if this was a rash decisions, then it wouldn't let this slide. 

Something was wrong.

He'd already unlocked the passenger side door, you tore it open as he threw himself in the drivers seat. Shutting the door and buckling yourself in, Tim started the car.

"Where are we going?" There was a looming sense of dread deep in your guts. "What's going on?'

"(Y/n)." Tim began, voice flat and dry. You shut up. "We need you to be considered legally dead as soon as possible." You had no idea what that had to do with anything, "It'll make things easier for you, you'll be able to go out with anyone thinking you're you. No one looks for you." You were grimly reminded of Sully, he looked for you in his miserable desperation. "People will forget that you ever existed." That wasn't entirely true, your name would be thrown around the true crime circle of the internet for years but he meant the general public, your name will fade into obscurity as another cracked out twenty something. "If there's an official sighting, it's like resetting the clock." Clock? Did he mean the time it'd take for the state or family to presume you dead? "It's best to keep it from resetting at all costs." He continued as he pulled the car from the parking lot. "It could take a few years depending on circumstances," He slowly pulled the car around the mall, less and less cars appeared as you rounded the back of the building, "We're still trying to figure something out to make it easier for your family to proclaim you dead."

You blinked dumbly, glancing to the man in the driver's seat, brow furrowed and lips in a frown. Was it pity? The gravity of your situation hit you once more, you could never see anyone from your past ever again. It was difficult to accept but you'd swallowed harder pills, like actual human flesh. It was just another thing on the shit pile that was your life. It was just jarring to hear that they were planning to fake your death, make the wait shorter so going out was easier. Where did April fall into that equation?

Tim parked the car in the darkening back of the mall, there was not a single soul there. He turned the light on, the one that sat on the cars roof, lighting his face up with the dull yellow light. He wanted you to be able to see him when he delivered the news. Give you the human experience of a proper face to face conversation. He didn't hesitate, "They're killing her right now. Making sure she doesn't report you and reset the clock."

You slapped a hand over your mouth as bile churned in your guts. Not again. Not another old coworker biting the dust because of you. With the mall goth you tricked yourself into thinking the less you knew, the better. Thing is, you hardly knew shit about April but the painful weight in your intestines was unbearable. 

"If you plan on faking my death then why kill her?" You spat the words out, not out of malice but out of desperation, as if being reasonable could stop Toby and Brian from killing the poor girl. She was probably being hacked to bits as you speak. "Let her reset the clock if we're just gonna break that shit anyway!"

"Faking your death isn't a guarantee." Tim softened his voice, trying to show compassion for you, "It might not be enough, it could fail. It's best to keep you out of the public eye just in case faking your death fails. You might have to wait be claimed dead for a few years if that's how things play out."

"It's just a few weeks! Since I was last seen! It's hardly any time!" You argued, voice cracking. You didn't give a shit about April as a person, you didn't know her. It was more the weight of knowing another death would be on your hands because you knew somebody. It was just too much. The boys were trying to protect you to some fucked up extent, and you understood that. You weren't the one cutting her up but you could practically hear her screams, her hot blood splattering on your face, her blood on your hands, caked under your nails. 

"(Y/n). It's for the best. We don't want you to be seen." Tim urged as you began to quake. Did it count as a sixth body because she was dying for your sake or as your fifth and a half kill because you weren't the one doing the slaying?

It lined up too well. Her bumping into you in a giant mall. Her being killed and you feeling like it was your fault because you knew her. This was **his** work, you fucking knew it. It had to be. Just like with Doug, things lining up all too well, trying to put you in a shitty spot mentally. Trying to break you down, trying to shatter your spiteful will, trying to make you resent the boys for their choice, trying to drive you apart. You knew what it was doing. The realization just made you angry, not at your boys but at it. You were upset, gut churning, enraged, stricken with grief over the loss of a human life that was only partially on your hands, there was guilt there but it would not break you. You would not be deterred from thoughts of escape, You would not become a proxy.

Mouth hanging open as the gears turned in your head, Tim called out, concern evident.

"(Y/n)?" Without a response from you Tim inched forward. It was trying to break you and your boys apart, what if it succeeded? What if you became a proxy while hating them once more because of the things it tricked you all into doing? "(Y/n)?" You didn't want that, you loved them. 

You were pulled into reality with Tim's second step. The man leaning forward and wrapping his arms around you carefully. You melted into the hug, quickly shooting your shaky arms around his stocky form. You buried your head into his chest, leaning over the cup holders uncomfortably. You clung onto him like he was your lifeline, which he was. They all were. 

Despite knowing what was going on, you still felt fucking awful. Oddly apathetic because you hardly knew her, guilty because if she never met you then she'd be fine, angry at the twink bitch. The others were gone, it was just you and Tim. You needed to be held. All you had was your body and your bonds with them that it seeked to break. It knew that you pulled strength from them, they fueled you. You held him for comfort but also as an act of spite. 

Small circles were rubbed into your back, the occasional pat. You sniffled and let yourself grossly cry into his jacket. " _It's okay, I got ya."_

With his words you completely broke down, letting out a loud crack of a sob, your hands screwing up tightly on his back. Hitching breaths and further leaning into him. You had to tell him, warn him of the possible danger of it trying to tear you apart.

It took a few wails to finally gurgle out his name " _Tim."_ He hummed in response waiting for you to babble out the rest of your message. " _It's trying to- trying to break us apart. Tim! Tim. It's trying to fucking,"_ You found yourself stumbling, scrambling, repeating your words, " _Break us Tim!"_ You gripped the back of his jacket possessively, _"I can't live without,"_ You wheezed out a few more words, tears soaking warmly into his jacket, _"-without you guys. Don't let it do it. Tim please."_

You felt that all there was in the world was you and him. He was the only one who could stand up to The Operator, your fearless leader. You weren't a proxy yet, cracked but unbroken, still ready to spit in the face of god. You felt like it was up to the both of you to stand up to it, to stop it's bullshit anyway you could. He had more experience than you, you were relying on him. He was the key to your escape.

_"Tim, I need you."_

Tim wasn't the best with words. He acted before he spoke.

Toby's hat was gently lifted from your head, hair shifting as Tim set it aside. You sniffled into his jacket, not looking up. A firm pressure was applied to the top of your head, quick but affirming. A kiss.

It was an act to show you that he understood, that he wouldn't let it break your relationship apart. He showed you that he wouldn't leave, he showed you that he was facing his fear of being loved. He took the third step because you needed it and he wanted to. 

He didn't need to say any more, you understood perfectly.


	41. 40 - Devil Woman

You don't know how long the two of you had been like that, holding one another, you wailing into him, his arms holding your shaking body steady. It would be nice if the circumstances weren't so grim. Honestly though, circumstances have been grim for years. The weight of a corpse on your back and now you finally were able to lift it with the boys around. No matter how many atrocities you committed, they'd always be by your side now and forever. If it allowed you to be around that long. 

The back car doors opening alerted you to Toby and Brian's return. You pulled away from Tim's gasp, you had to look at them. Turning a blind eye to what they'd done was a fools errand. You wouldn't get anywhere like that, you needed to see the blood on their clothes and accept them as they are. Murderers.

Tim let you go, he understood what you needed to see and was letting you go about seeing it in your own time. Pushing yourself back into your seat, you turned to see the men climbing into the car. You don't know if they were hiding their masks in their hoodie pockets or what, but they had them.

Brian pushed his up into his hair as he climbed into the car, the yellow of his hoodie tinting the blotches of red into a dark brown. He glanced in your direction, face stoic, eyes blank. You knew damn well he wasn't upset over the idea of killing somebody. It'd catch up to him eventually, but for now he was completely fine. He kept his face blank for your sake, not letting you know what he was thinking. Trying to spare you from the gravity of what they had just done, trying to keep the pity he felt for you off his face. To an extent he pitied you, but what you believed what he actually felt was sympathy, a strange kinship to your situation. He saw his past in you, saw that you were fragile, breaking down at the thought of death, blaming yourself for April's apparently bloody demise. 

The blame was hardly on any of you, you were just meat puppets in the twink's wicked play. You were upset at what blame there was, but you knew with a sickening clarity that this was how things were going to be. You had to steel yourself at the sight of blood, not suck it up, let yourself feel the pain and remorse, but then move on. Accept the blood wet on your hands, pruning your once soft fingertips. 

You were not accepting you situation, you didn't want to be a murderer, a puppet. You were accepting the bloodshed you and your boys caused, that it was happening, that it was unavoidable. That didn't mean that you accepted the idea of being a proxy in the slightest. The twink could still eat shit and die. 

Brian and Tim usually rode in the front seats, but Brian didn't say anything about it. Sitting down quietly in the leather chair free of the food trays. He probably had the idea that you didn't want to be anywhere near him, thick globs of blood on his boots that tracked red prints on the inside of the van, clothes sprayed with mists of blood and the occasional fat splatter. The blood made you nauseous, the thought of it caking on your hands and clothes made you want to scream; but you wanted the man near, just his presence set you at ease.

Toby was right behind him, face mask around his neck, pushing his goggles into his hair as he shuffled into the car. A smile on his face, the gash seeming to stretch out is length. They all took some pleasure in murder, Tim and Brian using it more of an angry catharsis than anything. Completely numb to killing, so they took to having some fun with walking corpses. Catharsis was cool and all, but you didn't think that Toby only used killing as a release. He genuinely enjoyed it. He didn't need the motivator of feeling powerless, though it did help, but he lived for the thrill of the hunt.

Neither of them had their weapons on their person. Masks were easy enough to hide but two hatchets and a gun were a little harder. The blood on his ratty converse, the wet sheen on the fabric of his gloves, the red around the ends of his hoodie sleeves. They got up close and personal.

Toby lifted the trays of now cold food, placing them on his lap as he sat in the leather seat, his silence besides the popping of joints was startling. Brian must have given him a stern talking to, they were afraid that if they talked to you that you'd break. They were being considerate and caring which warmed your heart. Yet, you didn't need to be sheltered from blood anymore. 

Not talking, Toby still made noise, bouncing his foot up and down, loudly shoving a bloodied glove into a greasy bag, pulling out french fries and eating them, not caring about the blood that got on the fries. He tilted his head to the side as to no let anything spill past his gash. He smiled at you, face speckled with blood and chewed up starch between his teeth. Gross, but this was the man you loved. 

You'd take the thick silence in stride. You just wanted to sleep this shit off, get some rest then talk to them. Can't communicate with your murder roommate boyfriends on three hours of sleep. Shooting him back a smile of your own, you turned and relaxed into the passenger seat. Tim had left the car on, backing out of its parking spot smoothly as soon as the boys were settled. Glancing at the backseat through the rear view mirror at his partners. Checking if they were alright, which they were. A hand came up to the cars ceiling and flicked off the yellow light, bathing all of you in darkness amidst the silence.

The rattle of the car as it drove down smoothly paved highways, the occasional street lamp flooding the car in a soft orange light made you drowsy, helped you forget what had just happened. It was nice, relaxing, like you couldn't smell your old coworkers blood from the back seat. You fell into a light slumber, relaxed and drained. Spite and mental strength might have been your whole thing but you still needed your rest.

The soft ' _pop'_ of the passenger side door had you stirring with a groan. Your eyes fluttered open to see Brian leaned over you, back to you as he quietly rifled through the glove box.

"Brian?" You softly called out through a yawn, stretching your arms over your head. Leaning to the side a bit, you saw him loading a gun. Of course you weren't going home yet. You predicted you'd be offing that woman, you weren't completely surprised but you weren't completely expecting it to be so soon. The twig must have been angry about the outcome of the mission, demanding it be set right.

He turned to you, soft sounds of metal on metal ringing in your ears as he slid the magazine into the gun, loading it. What you could see of his face was still blank, he was still trying to spare your feelings. You could only see his mouth, the black and red fabric pulled over his nose and eyes. Trying to protect you from claiming more lives. You didn't need to kill anyone to accompany them on the mission though. You were a part of the team, you didn't have to participate but you would. There was a realization that maybe this was **his** doing but those thoughts quickly washed away. **He** wanted to break down your relationships, **he'd** want you to stay in the car, let them do the work. Not let you further integrate yourself into their group, bonding over how shitty your job was.

You unbuckled your seat belt and Brian quickly put a hand on your chest, lightly pushing you back into the seat. He didn't get it, not yet. You looked him in his wrinkled dots for eyes and spoke, " _Where's my gun?"_

There was no need to tell him to let you go, ask him what was going on. Your question was genuine, you wanted your weapon, you wanted to accompany them, but it was also a firm statement. You _were_ coming with and there was nothing he could do to stop you. He could try to restrain you but you'd proven to be quite the weasel. It'd only be a matter of time til you got out, he respected you too much to do that to you anyway.

He knew what you were saying but he still asked, **"Are you sure?"**

His voice changer has been flicked on already, located somewhere in the mask. You could hear his actual voice as a gravely undertone as it wasn't completely covered by his mask. You were being asked by Brian and Hoodie, by your boyfriend and the man who traumatized you, if you were sure you wanted to accompany him into what could be a bloodbath. 

You asked him a question in return, your conviction evident, " _Where's my mask?"_

The weight pressed into your hands was foreign only because you hadn't been shooting in so long. You were a little out of practice due to Brian wanting to be careful about how much activity you got. As of late you'd been recovering quite well, you were nearing the point where you could have gone shooting again, but you didn't quite get there.

If you were going to put holes in anybody, you hoped they were close. Not because you enjoyed the thought of being splattered in viscera and blood but because it was a lot less aiming for you and a quicker death for them. 

Tim and Toby were waiting around the back of the house. It was a two story home, quaint and suburban. You had a feeling this was the mall goth's home, not what you were expecting but stranger things had happened. The homes were spaced apart, large areas of nothing but grass and air between the houses. You wondered if her neighbors would hear her scream, hear any bullets that you might fire into her head.

Toby perked up at the sight of you, waving both arms obnoxiously. You heard Tim hiss at him to be quiet before he could yell out a greeting, elbowing the young man roughly. 

You were by their sides now, the four of you wearing masks, armed and dangerous in the mall goths backyard. There was no more ' _are you sure'_ s, they knew your devotion just by you tagging along. You'd proven it time and time again, eating your best friend because you verbally assaulted the twink, all for them. You were one of them, part of their fucked up chain link fence of love and friendship. A part of a whole. You were not a proxy and you would not allow yourself be bullied into being one by the skinny ass business man, but you wanted to be with your boys.

Instead of questions, soft words of reassurance along the lines of ' _you don't have to do anything you don't want to,'_ , you got, "Let's fuckin' rock n' roll gang." A mix of Tim and Masky's voice, the two personas merging into one.

God, Tim reminded you of a forty year old dad who wore socks and sandals during July. That same man pried open one of the downstairs windows with a crowbar like it was nothing.

You had an awkward time climbing into the window, not too experienced with the activity of breaking and entering, especially in the dark. Tim took you by the hand and helped drag you inside while Brian pushed you forward from the outside by your ass, his hand lingering for a little too long once you were inside. You shot him a look, covered by your semi-melted mask. You got a mildly terrifying electronic chuckle in response, you'd have to kick his ass later. Them in their masks and uniform and respective voice changer were still scary to you. You knew the men behind the masks and fabric, but all of the times you met their personas before left a sour taste in your mouth. As terrifying as they were, they were your boys, they wouldn't hurt you. The adrenaline rush of being around so many dangerous people but being incredibly okay had your heart racing, wide awake, and alert. 

Finally in the home, you stood in the dark room, waiting for Brian and Toby to haul themselves inside. It took them no time at all. Your eyes couldn't seem to adjust to the dark, someone took you by the hand and led you through the darkness. They weren't going to pick you up and walk you through the house, you were a grown ass adult who could handle herself. You thought as you smashed your toe into what you thought was a table.

" _Fuuuuucck."_ You let out a hiss of a whisper, shaking your foot out and willing for the throbbing agony to go away.

You heard soft assorted snickers, no comments as you were trying to stay quiet. You held in a long stream of curses as you continued followed whoever was leading you along. The houses residents didn't awaken at the sound, thankfully you hadn't completely fucked up the mission. Then again, if they woke up you'd just have to chase them down. They'd die either way. 

As the lot of you crept through the downstairs, you taking uncertain steps forward, Tim hissed out a quick debriefing of the targets. The others _knew_ who was supposed to die but you did not.

Hearing such a loud person actually whisper was jarring, "The girl and her partner are upstairs, they die. Her cousin lives in one of the spare rooms, _don't kill him."_ You don't know why the mall goths cousin was excused from the twig's wrath, but you supposed maybe it wanted to observe how he'd react to the sudden and bloody loss of his cousin and her partner. See if he'd be good puppet material, the poor son of a bitch.

The stairs proved to be a sudden challenge, whoever led you along, you suspected it to be Tim, didn't slow down too much for you. You could hear footsteps, unlike Brian's quiet ones, you didn't hear the soft ' _pop'_ s of joints in front of you, they were coming from behind. He was practically dragging you up the stairs, you'd lecture him how to properly led someone up a dark set of stairs later. 

You weren't exactly murder happy, you were here as an act of solidarity and camaraderie. Killing people wasn't your favorite thing to do that didn't mean that you wouldn't kill somebody if it came down to it. You felt as if your job was to be backup if anything went off the rails. Your place in their murder gang dynamic hand't fully sunken in, you didn't know where you fell when it came to missions of murder. You were just kinda rolling with it at this point. You never wanted to figure it out, if you did you'd be so used to killing that you'd definitely be a proxy by that point. 

You were left in the dark hall while the men went on ahead, you were keeping watch while they'd go and kill off the targets. If they escaped their rooms via their doors, you'd put a hole in them. If the girl's cousin came out of his room, you'd threaten him at gun point to shut up and go to bed.

Doors softly creaked open, soft footsteps walking away from you. You were left alone in the dark hall, gun safety off, pointing ahead at the empty air just in case. You stood there, not frozen but willingly unmoving for a few seconds before new sounds played through the darkness.

A wet slap, a hard _'_ _crunch'_ , gurgled gasps. There was no scream, they weren't given any time to do so as another crack of breaking bone entered the air. The gurgling volume significantly fell, a soft giggling almost drowning it out. He'd done it again, what he'd done to Dan. Fuck up their vocal cords or something of that nature. You had a feeling he was still keeping Brian's lecture in mind, trying to keep his kill tame and understated. He was still enjoying himself, probably watching the twitching body's blood seep into the mattress they'd slept on with a grin.

You listened intently for the death of the second. Instead you got a shrill scream, she had either woken up or wasn't asleep in the first place. Maybe she was paranoid, good at hiding it, or she was just an insomniac. Passing the night by with her phone or her thoughts.

You were met with the sound of feet on floor, hyperventilating, her voice so shrill that it seemed to rattle the houses walls, " _CHRIS! HELP! GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM M-"_

_**Thud!**_

You didn't know what happened in there but in the midst of her screaming, but the sound of weight slamming unevenly into the floor, her sudden silence told you she was dead and gone. The mission was over just like that.

It was chillingly quick and efficient. There was a lack of brutality which you knew they had in them, they were still wary of your mental state. They knew how traumatized you were, they knew this was new to you. You knew it too, the sounds of death had your stomach threatening to push out a thick stream of bile. You kept it down, you were terrified but you were not the victim here. You were only somewhat okay, recognizing the loss of human lives. They were already dead the second the twig took interest in them, you had a good idea that most people it took interest in didn't live very long. It had specific taste in puppets, mentally fragile and tormented. 

It was harder to feel bad about dead people when you didn't know them. It sucked for them, but you were still alive with no personal ties, their deaths not on your hands, so you were just along for the ride.

There was faint moonlight from the window at the end of the hall, illuminating its walls and the open doors that led to the rooms of the deceased. Your heart rate sped up as a broad figure stepped out from one of the doors, Brian. Another figure followed, you could barely make him out from behind Brian, twitching, Toby. You supposed Brian went in the room with Toby as a precaution, making sure he didn't have too much fun.

The mission was over, all you had to do now was leave the target's cousin alone and traumatized. It didn't matter if he woke up, the targets were dead. Nothing he did would change that, if he called the cops, the lot of you would be long gone. You idly wondered if you were all considered serial killers in the eyes of the media. You reported the masked men to the police after that night at the cabin, drawn masks all over the news. After that night you didn't dare look into other cases, if there were other sightings of them. You had wanted to forget completely about them, bury the memory and keep moving on with your life. 

The situation was grim, but you didn't give a shit. Your boys were right in front of you, unharmed and the lot of you could finally go home. You'd been missing out on some good cuddle time with Goober, you desperately wanted to catch up on that. No matter the blood and bodies, that didn't change the fact that you were glad to see them, a hushed whisper left your lips, "Hey cuties."

You were being too casual for the situation, but this might be the norm for awhile. It's shitty but making light of the dark situations was something you'd always done. By joking you could shove some of your darker thoughts back, filing it away to revisit on another date. Let the blood roll off your shoulders and fall to your feet. It'd rise one day and possibly drown you, making you into a proxy. All the guilt and self hate taking you on at once if you didn't cope. You'd cry and scream when you needed to, deal with the horrible emotions when you could. Bit by bit you'd take on your baggage but just not right now. Right now you wanted to make light, feel as normal as you could.

Toby chuckled as you lowered your gun, pointing it to the floor. The two men's silhouettes eclipsing the window, blocking off your view of the hall. You could only make out outlines of color, muted by the darkness. A blue hood, glinting orange googles, and a yellow hood, a barely visible frown. You could hear Tim shuffling through the room the mall goth had resided in. You assumed he was looking for her wallet. 

"Hey yo-yourself." The outline of Toby's hooded head cracked to the side with a soft ' _pop'._

"Come here often?" A little jokey flirting wouldn't kill anybody, you thought, right after two people were murdered only a few feet away from you. Your words were slightly muffled by the mask you wore. Once cold but now warm with your hot breath, it was super uncomfortable but you wouldn't take it off till you were in the car. Safe from being spotted, safe from resetting the clock. 

**"I've been here before but I've never seen you around."** Brian joined in smoothly, only further reminding you that he was a professional stalker, that he loved acting. They were willing to indulge in the chatter, charged with something other than stress over your jobs. It could be the thrill of the kill running through them, adrenaline pumping and ready to make rash decisions or they just wanted to talk somewhat normally after committing yet another inhuman act. **"Glad we ran into you though."**

The modified voice you'd associated with the sadistic fuck who stomped Michael's head in and shot you in the leg was different now. It still sent a chill down your spine, having you unconsciously straighten up, it was still attached to those horrible memories. Yet here you were, heart racing but not running. Facing the fear you still felt for him, of what he'd done, what he could do. It was scary by your association with the voice as a target, but you weren't that anymore and you knew that Brian wouldn't hurt you. There was fear and delight in your system and you let them coexist, an intoxicating concoction.

He took a step forward, letting it be loud, heard. It was calculated, Brian was the quietest motherfucker you'd ever met, if he wanted you to hear him then you would. He wanted his presence to be even more overwhelming, terrifying and exciting. 

"Really?" You mimicked him, not one to back down from a challenge, taking a step forward, "And why's that?"

"Because you're cu-cute when you're sss-scared." Toby answered, voice low and muffled by his face mask. How did he know that you were scared? Was it just a guess because of circumstance or was it the way you stiffened up at the sight of them, voice straining ever so slightly?

You huffed out a laugh, "Aren't I always cute though?"

You weren't going to deny it, they were scary as shit, but they were also tender and sweet. Covered in blood, which was only mildly sickening at this point, and armed with weapons that you'd once been on the serious business end of. The last time a weapon was pulled on you by Toby, you kinda liked it and you were not going to deny that. 

**"You are. It's just adorable how hard you try to hide it. Like we can't see you shaking."** Brian called you the fuck out, you were scared but you didn't like to show it. Earlier it was out of spite, not wanting to give them what they wanted, but now it was more of not wanting to hurt their feelings. Despite trusting them, when they did certain things or wore their uniforms you were terrified of them. They were your comrades, you tried not to show the fear because it's kinda weird to be afraid of your friends. Also, you didn't want them getting a big head over it. Toby certainly did when he held a hatchet to your throat. **"I also know that you don't exactly hate being scared."**

You let out a sputtering wheeze as you got called out by the man only a few inches away from you, his gloved hand reaching up to cup the chin of your masked face. You were not expecting that or the crack of sound and the sudden flash of white.

**_B A N G !_**

Toby's silhouette zoomed past you and slammed into the floor with a ' _thud'._ The floor shuddered with the impact, you snapped your head to his body that lay on the floor. With his frame not blocking the moonlight from the window, you could make out his back. The light blue of his sweater dark in the moonlight, or was it the blood surrounding the deep cavity suddenly in the back of his head? You could hardly see it but the light bounced off his blood and brains, white and glistening against almost the almost black reds that oozed further into the cavity. He wasn't moving. 

" _TOBY?!"_ You barked out his name like somehow it'd make him okay. You stepped out from behind Brian's frame, hovering over the boy, getting a closer look at the deep reds seeping into the fabric of his hoodie. It took you a hot second to remember that he'd be fine, but you were still worried out of your fucking mind, panic flooding your senses. It'd take hours for him to recover, it'd be hellish for him, once his brain was functional enough he'd be conscious without all his bodily functions as it continued to repair itself.

Now wasn't the time to worry about the boy on the floor, his warm blood splattered across the hoodie that you'd borrowed from him. Brian turned to the source of the gunshot before you did. The lot of you had been so caught up with your banter that you hadn't noticed the last person alive was awake and not very happy. Of course some asshole named Chris living in a suburban neighborhood in the United States would have a fucking gun. 

Brian didn't have a gun in hand, he must have shoved it in his pocket after Toby took care of the target. Thinking he wouldn't need it, not worried that the would last person woke up and hurt anyone, confident he could take care of it. The thing is, you kinda distracted the incredibly competent gunman and that proved to be a mistake.

**_B A N G !_**

Brian didn't get to draw his gun. The second he fully turned to Toby's attacker, his head was nothing but an explosion of hot flesh. His head snapping back, bits of skin slapping wetly onto your mask, blood harshly throwing itself onto your clothes, some of his teeth bounced off of your hoodie and clattered softly to the floor. His massive frame hit the ground with what felt like a deafening ' _thud'._

It was only a split second that you looked at him there, laying seemingly dead on the floor. The black fabric of his mask covered some of the gore as it lazily draped over his now caved in skull. You couldn't tell the difference between his open mouth, missing a few teeth, from his inverted fleshy nose. Dark splatters across the walls, a growing lake of seemingly black blood pooling around his head. It was all you could see, you didn't want to see anymore anyway, you never wanted them to get hurt. 

Rational thought was out the window, the mission forgotten, you wanted to get back at the person who hurt your boys. Anger and adrenaline pulsing through your veins as you raised your gun. The non-target, the one to not be killed, you forgot about it all, you wanted him fucking dead.

The gun was readied in your hands before your head even turned to face the last survivor. Finger wrapped tightly around the trigger, one arm bent and supporting the other, just like Brian taught you. You weren't going to fail him, you were going to blow this motherfuckers head off of his shoulders.

**_B A N G !_**

Before you could turn to look at the boys attacker, something whizzed by you, your breath caught in your throat as there was a sudden lack of skin on the side of your throat in a line of hot pain. You weren't a proxy, you could die, he was trying to kill you. After everything you'd been though, after so many attempts on your life you knew not to back down, not tor run.

Turning your head at breakneck speed you saw a the blur of his general outline that was all you needed. An unmoving mass to shakily aim at nearly point blank. An unmoving mass at pointed his gun at you too. You wouldn't let him get another shot in, on you, or any of your boys, he had to die.

**_B A N G !_**

The gun kicked up and back in your sweaty hands, a flash of white momentarily blinding the both of you. You didn't let your eyes shut on instinct, you wanted to confirm the fucker was dead, you wanted to see his brains on the wall, his body on the floor.

You didn't get to see his brains explode, skull busting open in an explosion of pink and red. Instead you got to see a hole make its way into the side of his throat, lodging itself into his neck with a pressured spray of blood. The force had him falling back, hitting the moonlit window with a reverberating ' _bang'._ His legs still worked, they weakly supported his weight as a gurgling growl erupted from his throat. Hands instinctively dropping his weapon and slapping themselves around the squirting wound. The gun fell to the floor with a soft clatter as the man continued to lean on the window for support, trying to stay conscious while blood was quickly oozing between his fingertips.

It was too late for him. With a wound like that he'd be unconscious in seconds and bled out minutes later. That wasn't good enough, you wanted him dead _now._ All you could feel was hate, spite, and the blood from the bullet graze seeping from your neck. It was hot, angry, boiling. 

You opened your mouth and let a shriek rip itself though your throat, vocal cords straining. The pathetic fuck was starting to stumble, knees getting weak, bare feet slipping on his own blood that had began to drip beneath him. Mouth opening and closing, taking gasping breaths, he looked to your masked face. You knew he hated you. You felt the same.

**_B A N G !_**

The kickback of the gun hardly mattered in your iron grip. A spike of dopamine shot through your skull, harder than a bullet, when his body slammed into the window. A guttural screech erupting from him, a violent mist of blood spraying from his gut. The force of the bullet had him doubling over, falling hard onto the bloodied floor with a ' _thud'._ On his knees, kneeling in his own blood, ground teeth and wide open eyes. He had grit, still conscious and growling. He was helpless, a fly to swat. One hand slapped over his throat the other pressing into his stomach trying to keep his insides in place. His blood on the window from the earlier neck wound changed the lighting, some of the white light now tinted a candy apple red.

If he could talk you wouldn't doubt that he'd call you a cock sucker and tell you to go to hell. He couldn't though but the sharp look in his partially lit eyes said it all. You didn't appreciate that look, that he was still alive. 

**_B A N G !_**

You finally got what you wanted. His brains on the wall with the added bonus of the pink chunks on the window. His body stayed upright for a few moments, mouth hanging open as thick streams of blood traveled down his face. One eye gone, replaced with a dark cave of a hole. The reddened moonlight shone through the hole in his head, you could tell that the flesh around his eye socket had caved in around the bullet wound. 

Once strong, a survivor, taking out two of the most dangerous men you'd ever met for the moment, grazing your throat, he was reduced to nothing but a sack of groaning flesh. Head lulling back with the lack of support from his neck, his head hit the bloody wall as his body lowered itself to the floor. Falling in an awkwardly limp pile on the ground.

It had only been a few seconds since Brian was standing in front of you. Now you were standing over him and Toby's currently brain dead bodies, another kill added to your count. You felt blood spilling out of your neck, no pain accompanied it. The hot oozing feeling of it on your skin and your body shaking with adrenaline was all you could feel.

Lowering the smoking gun, feelings other than anger came rushing back to you. Rational thought, as rational as a sextuple murderer could get. You didn't feel bad for the person you killed in the fucking slightest. It wasn't just the blind rage that had you unloading bullets into his body that made you believe that. It was thoughts of **him**. 

**He** wanted to observe the hole ridden corpse. **He** wanted him to stay alive, that was understandable. Being able to shoot two people at different heights in the head in only a matter of seconds was impressive. He shot you too, hitting you but doing no real damage. There was a shallow semi-circle of missing tissue on the left side your neck, bleeding profusely though you'd be fine. Lightheaded maybe, but fine. Either way, he was capable, a good candidate for being a proxy, better than you by far. No loving bond to the boys at all. You couldn't confirm it, but you couldn't help but feel like you just killed your possible replacement or if the twig did like you that much, you killed your possible new roomie. 

It didn't want this. It thought you would stay in the car, asleep or afraid to kill again. Terrified of the thought of blood, considering the last time you saw so much of it, it was wet on your tongue. Manipulating things to play out the way that they did, trying to make you feel responsible for April's death, resent the boys for choosing to kill her, staying in the car and not being a part of the team. 

It underestimated you, it made a fucking mistake. The eldritch entity had flaws, things to abuse, it thought of you a certain way, if it could even think at all. The boys framed it as more of something that wants, acts without a coherent pattern. Either way, there were cracks in the foundation that it had built up for itself.

" _(Y/N)!"_ Tim screamed out your name behind you, relief flooded you, he was okay.

You whipped around, Tim carefully stepping over the bodies. Shoving freshly looted money in his jacket pocket, loosely holding a wet looking crowbar. He was fucking terrifying but who gives a shit?

 _"You're okay!"_ The words pushed excitedly past your lips at the sight of him.

" _What the fuck happened?!"_ He wasn't as happy to see you as you were to see him. Your comrades at your feet were worrying at the least, but his masked face was pointed towards the body slumped before the window. The non target that you killed out of anger and a little bit of self defense. 

"He hurt us." You looked to the body, forcing yourself to take in the gruesome bloodshed, your work. "I got mad," You were drained honestly, killing someone and screaming was quite the taxing activity, "Sorry."

Guilt was kicking in, another human life ended by your hands, that sucks. You mostly felt bad about not feeling that bad. Though you knew you'd be crying over this later, hating yourself for letting anger take hold. Though it wasn't as bad as the others, with each kill more monstrous. 

You let the thoughts roll off your back for now, you'd deal with it later.

You mostly felt bad about the possible punishment. They abandoned the mission earlier, it was a small mission, simply stalking one person, but they directly disobeyed what it wanted. They could kill non-targets all they wanted to, Emile came to mind. However, if it said somebody was off limits, you assumed that _they were fucking off limits._

 _"You fuckin' dumb ass."_ His free hand came up to his dark hair, his masked face turning to you. He paused a moment, taking in your appearance, splattered in your companions muscle and bone. The blood pouring from the throbbing line of missing flesh, soaking warmly into your hoodie. " _Are you okay?"_ From his words being hissed out venomously to concern for your health, his tone may have changed but there was a constant. Worry for you, the one who killed the one person you weren't supposed to kill. 

"I'm fine." You croaked as the terrifying thought bloomed in your head; Was **he** going to punish you or Tim? You, the one who pulled the trigger or Tim, the one responsible for you as the leader. "Are you?" You shuddered out the question, he looked fine but you were worried as fuck.

You felt short of breath, your mask wasn't helping. A hand ripped itself from the gun, wrapping your sweaty fingers around the cool porcelain and shoving it into your (h/c) locks. There was no one around to see you, no one to reset the clock. Maybe the neighbors, but they couldn't immediately see you, you thought. Furrowed brows and mouth dry, you looked into the black film of fabric that covered his eyes. Silently begging him to take it off, to tell you face to face that he was okay, that everything was going to be okay.

A large hand grabbed the mask by its chin, lifting it and pushing it up into his hair as well. Your eyes had adjusted to the darkness, you could see him, though not very well. Brows furrowed and raised, mouth twitching in a frown, a look of horror. You knew damn well he wasn't scared of you, he was scared _for_ you. His earlier abrasive words had been a gut reaction, his way of expressing shock and worry. 

_"No."_ He rasped out, making intense eye contact for once, it wasn't creepy or hateful, he was mortified. He knew what it could do to punish somebody. You'd gotten a taste of punishment, literally, but you suspected that you hadn't seen jackshit. " _Do you have any fuckin' idea what the fuck you just did?"_ Two hands slapped themselves onto the side of your face, his gloves cold against your heated skin. 

That wasn't reassurance. All his words did was make you scared. Terror crawling into your system, you didn't know if it was for you or him. You didn't want it to reject you, you'd rather live in you garbage circumstances, killing as many people as you had to, you wanted to live on as a fucking cretin but a cretin in love. You hoped it would be impressed, maybe it'd think that you're better than it thought by something like it underestimating a mere mortal. Impressed enough to let it slide. Though you knew you wouldn't make it out of this unscratched, you or Tim.

He shook your head violently when you didn't respond, " _(Y/N)!"_

You deserved to be yelled at but you were having a rough night, having just murdered another person. You cared a ton about Tim and the panic evident in his voice, but you didn't want to take being yelled at by him. Fear for his safety, fear for your life was clawing at your brain. " _WHAT?!_ " 

You were going to further yell at him, tell him to not be fucking rude. Tell him to tell you that it was okay. You might have even told him you knew exactly what you were doing. That you took your anger out on a living person, there was the flimsy explanation of self defense but maybe if you hadn't let your rational thought escape you so easily. You could have aimed somewhere less vital. Incapacitate him, though you didn't think your aim was that good. All the shots you landed on him were randomly aimed, you pointing your gun at his general mass and hoping for the best. It helped a lot that he was only feet away. 

There was no chance to do any of that because you felt the buzzing under your skin. The words caught in your throat as a harsh static roar pierced your ears. Your hands flew up to your ears, face contorting into a grimace. You didn't take your eyes off Tim, he looked at you with sheer terror. He wasn't thinking about himself at all, idiot. 

Fear coursed through your veins like liquid ice. Teeth chattering as the vibrations just under your flesh spread throughout your body, **he** was close, **he** was coming. 

Tim.

He was the only one awake, the only one who could feel its incoming presence, like the air hanging thick before a thunderstorm. You did this for them. You came here for them, you killed that fucker for them, you disobeyed it for them. To learn more of its nature, push its button, see if it made more mistakes. You'd do anything to get them away from it. 

All you could focus on was your buzzing flesh and Tim's face, his shaking fingers digging into your cheeks. You could feel it, the vibration just under his skin, its influence burning through his body. 

All at once, your muscles seemed to fall asleep, held stiff by sharp pin pricks. Vision darkening dangerously as you felt yourself fall to your knees. Your head lulled back as the roaring static had hot blood dripping from your ears. You were seeing double, looking up to Tim as he stumbled back coughing raggedly into his hand. He tripped over Brian's splayed out arm, falling onto his ass, looking up. He looked so scared but he was still conscious, still fighting. 

You'd never felt this before, you had but something was up. It wasn't putting thoughts into your head. You were filled with its presence, the shaking in every vein, every tooth, every fingernail, but it wasn't in your head. 

Thinking was slow and simple in the screeching roar that came with its presence. Your vision faded in and out as you watched Tim struggled to keep himself sitting up, propped up by his hands behind his back. It was preoccupied with him, you were supposed to be unconscious, too overwhelmed by its proximity, it not allowing you semi-clarity. The thing was, it didn't need to give you exclusive access to consciousness because you were still awake, all on your own. 

Your eyes shaking in their sockets traveled slowly to the ceiling. It's back was pressed up against the ceiling, too tall to stand inside regularly. You didn't take the time to follow its long torso down the hallway. **His** featureless face was almost right above your head, it pointing its somehow ugly mug towards Tim. Terrorizing him. One of your boys. It'd get to you soon enough but for now it wanted to fuck him up.

Not on your watch.

It took every ounce of your limited brain power to focus on your legs, shaking and feeling like they were turned off. You didn't move an inch, gaze directed on The Operator, the one you hated the most. Still trying to stand, your eyes fell to the boy beside you. The back of his head busted horribly open, curly hair matted with blood.

Toby.

You could hardly make him out in your blurring vision, you could only make out the dull yellow and nearly black reds. A large mass of a man with a destroyed face.

Brian.

Then there was him, still awake, unharmed but that could change any second now. Shaking as he fought off The Operator's influence the best he could, sitting in your companions blood. Trying to keep it together as your leader, to take the heat for you. He needed help.

Tim.

You only knew that you were rising from your knees because your view of Tim was slowly shifting. Muscles aching and shaking but you didn't care. Tim's well being was all that mattered to you. You couldn't look away from him, only vaguely aware of your labored movement. Every breath was yours, not controlled by **him** , every breath in **his** presence burned. The air sacks in your lungs quaking, swallowing and expelling air only irritated your lungs even more. It didn't matter. Nothing mattered but them, but standing up to **him**. 

Tim's eyes fell on you when your knees were just beginning to straighten out, your neck not cooperating and supporting the weight of your head. His mouth opened and shut over and over, not knowing what to do. Desperation was evident across his face, fear, dread, he wanted you to kneel. Take the punishment as is, submit, be a puppet. The entire time you'd been transparent about getting them out of the twig's grasp but they'd adamant on you giving up, laying down and accepting your fate.

Murder and causing bodily harm was something you'd somewhat grown to be okay with. You wanted to live a life where you didn't have to force yourself to be jaded to the idea of slaughtering other people. You wanted to live a life that wasn't exactly the most wholesome, rough and dysfunctional, like it always had been. You wouldn't have it any other way. But you wanted to live free, fucked up but alright, happy, loved as hell, with your boys. 

You would not submit. It'd have to kill you first.

You needed it's attention. Tim's eyes begged you to stop but you wouldn't. You were doing this for his own good. A screech ripped through your throat, cracked and guttural. Bulging eyes struggling to look at The Operator but doing so anyway. Standing with a horribly shaking body, in pain and only able to hear the static like scream that accompanied its presence.

Your jaw and tongue moved of their own accord, you let the gargled word rip through your buzzing lips, _"FUCK!"_

 **His** head snapped toward you, eyeless sockets boring into you. You hoped it was surprised again, offended at your disobedience, it'd just have to get used to it. If you didn't die tonight, you'd rip it a new asshole whenever you could. Making one sided eye contact with the entity, you bore your teeth. Embracing what **he'd** made you do, wearing your forced sins with angry pride. Teeth clean of blood, another word forced itself passed your lips, " _YOU!"_

**He** was aware of you now because of your screaming, your defiance. You could feel your bodily functions being snatched away from you, you knew that **he'd** taken the reins from your fried brain. It only confirmed once more that it was stupid, underestimating you once more, thinking that it could overwhelm a rat bastard like you, scrappy and resilient. 

As spiteful, full of love and rage as you were, you couldn't fight the overwhelming influence. You hated it but you'd take this shit in stride, as long as it's attention was off of your boys. The added bonus of telling the business twink 'fuck you' had you feeling better about yourself than you should be. Sick pride, you wondered if you made it angry, if it got mad over a little yelling then boo-fucking-hoo, if it could even feel anger.

Your arm was raised for you, heavy with the weight of the gun. Your neck forced to support your head, standing tall and looking to Tim's terrified form.

Wait a minute.

There was no buildup, no moment of forced hesitation, your finger squeezed the trigger, aiming perfectly for Tim's knee.

**_B A N G !_**

His leg jerked into the floor with the force of the bullet. Knee forced open, skin caving in around the hot metal that wormed its way into his skin. Head throwing itself back, teeth grit, trying to deal with the pain of being shot, trying to keep it together for you, the person who just shot him.

No. This wasn't you. This was **him**. This was a punishment for you both. Tim receiving a dose of bodily harm while it was going to make you hurt someone. Someone you loved, deeply and truly.

Your hand snapped open, the gun falling from your grip. A dull and wet clatter told you that it was at your feet. You knew the gushing hole in Tim's leg wasn't your doing. No matter what happened, you both were probably going to be punished, this wasn't on either of you. Well, you killing the man was on you, but it was on him for not being a pussy, hiding in his room and cowering in fear at the big bag gang of murderers. 

Knees raised high as it made you awkwardly hobble over Toby's body. Body snapping in half to reach down. Buzzing bloody fingers wrapped themselves around the hatchet in Toby's limp hand.

You didn't want this but you knew it was going to happen anyway. You knew you weren't controlling your body but you didn't want to hurt someone else that you loved. It'd be like Sully all over again but he'd be fine, he understood, you don't know if that was better or worse.

Straightening up, you to glance at the bubbling wound on the back of Toby's head before your gaze was forced back to Tim. Not again. Please not him, not any of them. It made you take a step forward in the slowly coagulating blood. It wouldn't let you talk but you wanted to tell Tim you were sorry for what was about to happen.

He didn't scramble back at your approach, wet hatchet in hand and trying to will it out of your head. Tim looked up to the meat puppet that was your body, his expression unreadable, a mixture of acceptance, of anger, of fear. As you grew closer you got a better look at him, black looking blood oozing from his nose, dribbling down his lips, the liquid shining in the light. With buzzing flesh and maybe even The Operator holding him in place, he moved his lips. The roar of static grew louder, you couldn't hear his words. He carefully articulated the movement of his wet lips, you read it as ' _it's okay'._

Knees were on either side of him before you knew it, straddling him and a hatchet raised above your head. You wanted to cry but it kept your tear ducts from working as it made you swing the hatchet into his gut. Sharp metal cutting through his jacket, sinking into his soft intestines. His body jerked up with the sensation of what must felt like actual hell. Head thrown back, mouth twisted in a scream, but he didn't make any moves to throw you off him. 

Submission to his punishment. He offered you what comfort he could before giving in. Your fearless leader wasn't so fearless after all. That was okay, you'd pick up the slack for him if you lived through tonight.

Jerking your arm up, his body coming up with the force of the hatchet being ripped from him. All you could make out was a gushing line, the hot liquid staining his jacket and bubbling up like a geyser. Body twitching from the agony, holding back tears, pain mixed with what felt like thousands of angry bees under his skin. He was taking it.

You wanted this to stop, you wanted to scream at him to grow some fucking balls, it's just a flesh wound inflicted by someone he has clear feelings for, puppeteered by an eldritch entity. You just didn't understood why he fought but didn't go all the way, not fighting with everything he had. Not trying to safe himself from your relentless advances.

You'd show him what it was to fight. You'd show them both.

Arm swinging down once more, looking to dig the hatchet into his guts once more. The motion stopped because you fucking wanted it to. Rage at **him** and him making your arm lock up for a split second. Will strong, unbroken while it punished you. You lost control just like that, hatchet continuing its descent and slamming into his flesh once more. This time it didn't sink in as easily. The added strength the twink forced into your system had the bottom of his rib cage cracking under the hatchet's force. wet crunching mixing with the static in your ears. 

Another supposed scream tore from his throat, laying back and taking the hatchet from you. It rose again, you wanted to scream at him to get up and punch your mind controlled self in the face, fight back, rise up against **him**. It was sunken into his stomach once more, creating another slit of red. It wanted you to pull the hatchet from his cut intestines. He was twitching and convulsing before you, a ragged mess beneath you. The poor bastard was in pain but you left the hatchet buried in his skin longer than it wanted you to. Another split second freeze up, another moment of your body being able to do what it wanted to, one step closer to control. 

Not happy with this, it quickly took the reins once more. Weapon violently torn from his body, you were glad that you couldn't see much of the gore, darkness and fabric censoring the horrible sight of his rearranged guts.

It made you hack into him over and over, shredding his flesh and his jacket. It didn't let him pass out, feeling every little cut as you were forced to cut into him again and again. Brown fabric soaked deep reds, so torn that minced pulsating noodles of soft pinks began to peak around cloth, seeming to wriggle around as he tried to breathe. It wasn't done there, it made you lean forward, pressing your lower torso into his exposed intestines before it made you bash his teeth in with the handle of the hatchet. A concoction of blood and teeth pooling in the back of his mouth that it made him swallow before you were forced to bury the hatchet into his head. Over and over and over. Stubbly skin mixed with bone, mixed with stringy facial muscles, mixed with burst irises. 

There wasn't much relief in destroying his brain. You wondered if it somehow made him feel that too, keeping him conscious through all the damage. It didn't let you regain control again. Those two times being enough for it. 

Satisfied with Tim's punishment it let you knew that you weren't done yet.

The next thing you knew, you were falling into a trash can. Looking to a confused raccoon with drooling being forced past your open and bloody lips. Not again.


	42. 41 - (Never) Give Up

It squirmed in your teeth, flesh and fur splitting around your incisors, blood gushing into your mouth like a water balloon of meat. Thin bones snapping between the roof of your mouth and your tongue, the meat was sparse and sinewy. It was like eating a stuffed animal but it was alive, clawing at your face, and screaming a terrible screeching cry. Once it was nothing but a fuzzy tail and a few strings of intestine, you were forced to drop it and shovel as much garbage into your mouth as you could. Rotten bananas peels, damp napkins, thin cardboard, something you didn't quite see but all you knew it that it was warm and sticky. It was a blessing when it let go of you. You immediately fell unconscious, your face throbbing and your stomach cramping.

Wind on your face, the soft white noise of tire on pavement, a hand in yours, the paralysis from the neck down. That was the most noticeable thing, the fact that you could move your neck, not forced to be frozen like the other two times after being taken over. Your crusty eyes peeled themselves open as another prominent thing became known to you, your throbbing face, fresh scratches from little claws, the pinpricks of your muscles asleep yet aching. 

A groan bubbling forth from your vocal cords, neck rocking your head back and forth trying to wake yourself up further. You blinked your eyes dazedly, a seat in front of you, the back of somebody's head peaking around the head rest, light hair, short, Brian. 

"(Y-Y/n)." Your eyes drifted to the boy next to you. He wasn't sitting in the seat across the isle, instead he sat himself directly on the floor next to your seat, holding your unmoving hand in a death grip. Looking up to you with a mixture of relief and anger, Toby.

Your stomach didn't feel too hot after ingesting flesh, fur, and garbage. As glad as you were to see that his head was back in once piece, you had the more pressing matter of bile clawing its way up your esophagus.

"Vomit." Your lips barley moved as you mumbled out the word, hoping there wouldn't be too much to get onto your bloodied clothes. 

Toby shot up from the car floor, a hand tangling itself in your blood crusted hair. You didn't protest as you couldn't move and the bile was quickly rising. Luckily for your filthy clothes, the window was open. Unluckily for your hair, Toby had an iron grip and yanked your head out the window. You could have sworn you felt a few strands being pulled out of your scalp.

The second your head was out the window, wind whipping around your crusty skin and mouth hanging open, your stomach violently expelled its contents. A projectile stream of brown and red, chunks of fur being forced past your tongue, tickling your mouth as it escaped. You wretched at the sensation, eyes watering and the taste of filth filling your mouth and your nose. It splattered against the passing pavement, being left in the car's wake. 

Coughing up a few more chunks of slimy meat or rotten banana peel, you wheezed in hot breaths, letting tears spill. You spoke the first words that came to mind as Toby pulled your head back into the car, "This sucks mad dicks."

"I fuckin' wonder why." A gruff voice alerted you to his presence, with Toby's hand still in your hair, you snapped your head toward the sound. Face mostly together, lines of red and pink stretched across his features, kind of like cat scratches. Instead they were the healing wounds inflicted on his kinda girlfriend with a hatchet. Tim.

"Oh my god Tim." The words stumbled passed your lips, the images of busting his teeth in playing in your head, "Are you okay? I'm _so_ sorry."

The feeling of movement was spreading though your shoulders and upper arms, returning quicker than it had in the past, the tingling sensation leaving. The parts of you that could move still felt heavy with exhaustion though. Blood was dried on your clothes and skin, chunks of unknown substances between your teeth, you hoped that you could stand up by the time you got home so you could take a shower. 

"Save it, fucker." Tim snapped, as he turned to you, obviously he didn't appreciate the fact that you stood up for him. Though that did result in you chopping him into mince meat, you were just glad it didn't make you eat him. You wondered how long you were in that trash can with garbage and a raccoon corpse, waiting to be rescued by your knights in rusty armor. "Are _you_ okay?" Angry but still looking out for you when he was probably in a much worse state than you were. Maybe. 

"I ate a raccoon." You mumbled the obvious 'no' to his question. Movement allowing itself to develop in your arms, fingers flexing and testing how much your hands could twitch open and shut. 

The car pulled to a stop as you felt your hips and upper thighs awaken. None of them responded, the air in the car was somewhat nostalgic. Angry adults keeping their shit just barely contained until they got home, then you'd be torn a verbal new one. You were in so much fucking trouble. 

You hoped you wouldn't be put under house arrest. Again.

You undid your seat belt much to Toby's chagrin. You eyed him lazily as the fabric slid off of your body, "I can take care of myself." You slurred out the words as Tim and Brian threw themselves out of the car. Toby looked like he was three seconds away from slapping you into next week, worry and anger evident on his face. Still trying to prove yourself to be capable and in no need of anybody's help, your heavy arm traveled to the door handle. Before you could slid the door open, Brian opened it for you. "Wait." You could move your knees, you could probably walk, "Don't worry I got it." You felt like you were absolutely hammered, somewhat disoriented and not in the best control of your body.

With a blank face Brian stepped back, not believing in your grit. With crossed arms, he watched as you grabbed the chairs armrests for support, pushing yourself up with a grunt.

"See? I'm all good, baby." Then you tried to take a step out of the car, removing your hands from the armrests, losing your support. Your knees buckled with the sudden weight of your body and you fell towards the grass with a yelp.

One hand snatched the back of your crusty hoodie while someone else's arm shot around the front of your torso. Slowing down your descent then catching you.

"Dumb fuh-fuck." Toby grunted from behind you, releasing the back of your hoodie and letting Brian take complete hold of you. If Toby was pissed off, that meant one of two things: a bad mood swing or you _really_ fucked up. You were going to take the latter on that one.

Brian lifted you up as you grumbled in discomfort, you should have waited for your calves to be able move and support your weight. It was nice to be held, he was being gentle with you, only because he knew how shitty you felt. You knew he was angry as hell at you though, for your self sacrificial, stupid, rash, attempt to stand up to a being that could probably shove its long fingers up god's ass. Maybe it wasn't that powerful if some angry lady with the bad habit of making stupid decisions could literally stand up to it.

You knew they were angry at you but you still wanted to talk, it was how you coped. Chattering, joking, even when shit got really bad, you'd have a good cry soon enough. But for now, you just wanted them to smile at you. Their smiles made you feel okay, god you should really work on yourself. There's gotta be more to growing as a person than being over protective over your stupid murder boyfriends. Maybe you should start doing crosswords and baking pies, be a bit more of your own person, you can't always rely on other people. Then again, you needed other people, being alone in this situation would be actual hell. You'd still take up old lady activities though, seems fun. 

"Hey." You grumbled out as Tim held open the front door for Brian. Toby trailing behind, popping his joints. "I know you guys are mad but like," You could finally move your calves, kicking your legs absently in Brian's grasp, you could probably stand, "Can I shower before you yell at me? I'm so fucking crusty." You were on the verge of a mental breakdown, softly self deprecating with a weak smile. 

Tim let out a sigh, they were all filthy too, the lot of you needed to shower. Maybe if you all got a turn in the bath, you could all relax a little bit and they wouldn't be as mad at you. Though you knew they were still pretty pissed. "Brian put her in the bathroom. I'll get the dumbass some clothes."

"Yaaaay." You did limp jazz hands, being a little too peppy for someone who ate a live raccoon and styrofoam. You were glad it didn't make you eat that much of Sully while he was still alive, that would have sucked even more than it already did.

"Sssh-shut up and don't take too luh-long." Toby grunted from behind as Brian carried you through the house. 

You just wanted to laugh and joke around, cry a little later, you just wanted a fucking smile or a laugh from them. You had a genius response to Toby's rude request, something that'd show him not to talk to you like that, "Penis."

"Shut the fuck up, (Y/n)." Tim growled as Brian set you on the toilets closed seat. The man regarded you with no words and a blank stare, he was mad as hell at you. You hoped he wouldn't be nonverbal for days on end again, you loved his voice. 

You should stop joking, you should say sorry over and over, maybe shut your big mouth. Honestly, you'd usually be crying by now but you were still drunk on power from standing up to an entity that you held in regard to a god. You were fucking amazing, powerful, not unstoppable, but such a badass. Simultaneously feeling like not even god could hide from your fists-o-fury but also like someone who ate a live raccoon, awful, like death.

Brian stepped out of the bathroom and into the hall. His face was back to normal but dried splatters of his own blood were all around his face, his work clothes. He looked like a million bucks because he was Brian Thomas, but he also looked awful because he got shot in the head. Toby waited out in the hall as well, you could only see half of him through the door frame but he looked like a greasy gutter rat, your greasy gutter rat. With teeth wet with blood, lips and cheeks damp, you gave the two of them a smile. Trying to lighten the mood. 

This had the opposite affect, Toby snarled while Brian's face stayed the same.

"Wh-what the fuck you sss-smiling about?" Toby jerked his head violently to the side, growling out his words through gritted teeth. All your smile did was remind them of what you did to earn the punishment of eating a small furry animal, it reminded them that you stood up to The Operator. They didn't like that. Not because they respected the thing or cared for it, it was because they were mortified of the thing.

"I'm smiling at you buddy." You were pretty sure you were a bit delirious and probably shouldn't be left alone in the bathroom to shower, you could see yourself passing out or slipping in the hot water. You were still going to bathe though, as amazing as you felt for standing up to that thing that didn't change the fact that you smelled.

"(Y/n)," Tim appeared in the doorway, throwing a bundle of clothes they'd stolen from the mall onto the sink counter, "Stop fuckin' around." He looked at you with contempt, not begging you to stop but demanding it, confident in his authority. "You're in and out of there in five." He strictly informed you before snatching the doorknob and slamming the door shut. They didn't want to deal with your shit but they still wanted you to feel okay, probably understanding the sickening filth you felt within your body. Unclean but stupidly prideful about it, you were only like this because of what you did. 

Slowly stripping yourself of your smelly clothing and the mask that still sat atop your head, you couldn't stop grinning but you couldn't stop crying either. You were Icarus flying too close to the sun, wings melting and getting fucked. Yet you were still here, still alive, its patience had yet to wear thin enough for it to want you dead. That was a mistake. You weren't going to stop fighting, you'd spit in its featureless face in a seven eleven parking lot before this was all over, you'd fly closer and closer until you were free.

The last time you washed so much blood off yourself it was from someone you loved. The sentiment was the same, you cut Tim open and he was all over you. He'd soaked through your clothes and stained you skin. With wet hands and cocoa butter body wash, you scrubbed what was inside of him away. You weren't proud of it, hurting him but you were proud of the few moments you'd regained control of your body. Tim was just collateral damage that you wish didn't happen, but in the end he was okay. Aside from the traumatic event of being chopped up which he'd probably get over by next week, the guy had been through worse if he'd been under the twigs thumb for so many years. Although you doubted he'd forget it, shuddering at the thought of the pain, he'd be okay until he inevitably had a mental breakdown. Which he was probably due for one, that guy had to be stressed out and in need of a good cry. You'd be there if he ever needed a shoulder to cry on.

As per his request, you took no more than five minutes under the rushing waters. It relaxed your stiff muscles, cleaning out the raw flesh on the side of your neck and the thin scratches left on your face. You hoped that thing didn't have rabies. Legs heavy and weak but you still stood, basking in the after glow of telling the twink 'fuck you'. You may or may not have been manic, on a high that was lasting way too long to a point of where it was unhealthy. Tim grabbed an outfit without a care, jean shorts and a light (f/c) blouse without shoulders. 

You hobbled out of the bathroom, holding a wad of filthy clothes. Brian leaned against the wall, face still blank. Toby was gone, the door to his room ajar, you could hear him rifling through his drawers, probably having called dibs on the next shower. You were getting real tired of them, ungrateful, you stood up to the twig for them and all they'd done was pick your paralyzed ass up and be mad at you. 

"Don't look at me like that." You grunted, you got them being worried and being angry but you still didn't like it.

Brian blinked, not moving at all, still looking at you with a blank face. 

"Okay. I'm gonna go do my laundry, you have fun standing around, I guess." You huffed, stuffing the clothes under one arm and making your way for Tim's room. Brain's head turned as you moving, making it very obvious that he was still looking at you. Petty asshole. 

Tim's door was open, the light to the little room that held the washing machine was on. Probably preparing to throw all of your dirty clothes in the thing once the lot of you had showered. You didn't care to step over his clothes that were scattered about the floor. 

Entering the room, you saw him pulling clothes from the dryer and throwing them into a basket in a huff. Trying to keep himself preoccupied with something that wasn't being unreasonably mad at you. He glanced in your direction when you walked in, the door to the washing machine open, an invitation to throw your shit in there.

With a dirty look, he got back to his work. You were really getting the vibe they were all waiting to pounce on you the second all of them were clean, more comfortable, thoughts somewhat collected into cohesive insults. You huffed at him, throwing your clothes into the machine before turning on your heel to leave. As upset as you were at him, you still hurt him, there was still some blame on you. You couldn't play the role of apathy like Brian, not when you had turned Tim into ground meat.

Sucking up your pride for a moment you asked him, "Are you okay Tim?"

"Stop asking me if I'm okay because I'm clearly fuckin' not, if you don't remember you stabbed me a fuck load of times." Did hitting someone with a hatchet count as stabbing or slicing or bludgeoning? It didn't matter because Tim wasn't thinking about the logistics of his past wounds, he was just looking to set you straight. Telling you to stop caring about his health, stop caring so deeply for him that you'd lay down your life just for a slim chance to get him out from under the twink's thumb. 

You sighed, annoyance creeping further into your system. He wasn't going to make you stop caring. You loved him and your dumb ass roommates, you weren't ever going to stop worrying. You were a lover and a fighter and they could not take that from you. With a concoction of caring and spite you spoke, "Sorry." 

There was a beat of silence between you and the man angrily doing his laundry. He ignored your apology in favor of saying something more abrasive, "Don't you fuckin' dare think about going on one of your stupid fuckin' walks." Tim grumbled from behind, you paused. You hadn't even thought of that yet, you were a little too tired to do that anyway. What little walking you've done had you ready to lay down for an hour. Still, he was thinking that you were going to leave them again, make them come and find you. You weren't going to subject them to something so reminiscent of the earlier events. You were angry with them for being so pissy but you didn't need to walk, you didn't need to sort yourself out because you felt fine. Which was only because you were on a manic high and would probably crash from that very soon and start crying over the guy you killed. 

You weren't planning on going out but he made you kinda want to out of spite. Though your exhausted body told you not to, so you didn't entertain the thought very long.

"Don't worry about it." There was a temptation to add an insult onto your words but you decided against it.

You'd hold your tongue for now but if they kept this up you were going to go off. You continued your slow gait out of his room, not waiting for a response, not wanting to hear more abrasive words about how stupid you were. You weren't stupid, you just probably had a death wish while claiming that you wanted to live so badly. A walking contradiction.

You entered the hall just as Toby slammed the bathroom door shut. Brian's eyes were already on Tim's doorway, just where he'd seen you last.

You clicked your tongue at him, "Really?" He just blinked. You let out a laugh, shaking your head and walking past him, sticking to the opposite side of the hall. Though human touch was your greatest comfort, you were mad at them because they were mad at you. You didn't want to be touched by the cowards who didn't stand up to the twig, the cowards you loved and felt the need to protect. Even though your so called protecting got Tim's head bashed in.

Brain's bed was a tempting mistress, calling to you with a soft comforter and warm sheets. You wanted to make a show of how pissed you were though, so you looked to him with an obnoxious frown and hobbled into the living room. Sitting on the couch, you relaxed into the lumpy cushions with a sigh and waited for all the men to shower. Mentally readying yourself to get yelled at but not it a 'don't cry' kind of way. It was more of a _'I'll call them pussies if they say this or that but I won't be rude about this because that's too far and I don't want to hurt their feelings.'_

One by one, the bathroom door opened and closed, another shower down. Toby was the first to enter, wearing black shorts and a black t-shirt. He leaned on the wall next to the mouth of the hall, the usually touchy chatterbox was distant and quiet. If he wasn't mad at you and you weren't mad at him, you'd tell him he had nice legs. They were ridiculously hairy but past the dark hair you could see his lean but shapely legs. You had to stop yourself from staring, now was not the time to ogle at Toby, now was the time to look at the wall and pretend you did not see him.

Brian was next, you glanced to the hall when you saw his massive frame in your peripherals. You quickly looked back to the wall, if they were going to give you the silent treatment until Tim came in, then you'd do the same.

Tim came into the room with loud footsteps and proclaiming, "Do you have any idea how fuckin' stupid you are?"

You shot your eyes to the man sauntering into the living room, brows downcast and lips in a hard frown. You took a hissing inhale, "Incredibly," You began with a truthful statement but then followed it by another that was more questionable, "But do you know how fucking cool I am?" None of them looked like they were going to agree with that statement anytime soon, all three of their lips pressed into tight frowns. You continued anyway, ignoring their searing eyes, you deserved praise over anger after what you did. "Didn't think I had it in me but holy shit, right?" If they weren't going to give it to you then you'd praise yourself, "I stood up to that thing, I'm like a- like a-" You couldn't find the words to properly convey what you felt yourself to be. Not all powerful but not a pathetic worm. Strong willed but not strong enough. Smart but still rash.

"Like a fuckin' idiot (Y/n)." Tim finished your sentiment, taking steps towards the couch. He wasn't stalking toward you, you weren't scared of a man dressed in sweats and a baggy sweater. Well, you were but he looked tired, too tired to beat your ass which you highly doubted he'd do in the first place. They were going to treat you like glass, you couldn't heal like they could. Your body was exhausted, face and neck dully pulsating. They wouldn't hurt you even if you were healthy because they cared for you but that was why they were mad. 

You shifted forward in your seat, shouting out a defense, "I am n-" 

"Yes you ah-are." Toby surged forward, quickly passing by Tim. His hands were on either one of your shoulders, the old bruises left by Brian's hands only recently healed but with the tight grip Toby had on them, you had a feeling that your healed skin wouldn't last long. "You're ssssuh-such a fucking dumb ass." Toby hissing out insults had you feeling two certain ways, shitty about yourself because he was insulting you when he almost never did so, so angrily while looking concerned all the same. As well as bubbling rage just beneath your skin. They didn't understand the kind of shit you had to go through for them, the emotional taxation that came with being forced to chop up Tim, eating a raccoon, you felt awful and here they were making it worse. 

You weren't going to take this, "No I-"

"Yes you are." Tim firmly spoke, appearing behind Toby's shoulder, Brian in tow. "You listen to me and you listen _good_." He made his way around Toby, the boy keeping his death grip on you while he and Tim towered over you. " _Stop fuckin' with that thing for the love of god. You are not some sort of badass that can take it on."_

"Oh, so you just didn't see me regain control of my body _two_ times? I fucking stood up! That's gotta mean som-" You barked out, leaning forward as much as you could, Toby pressed you down into the couch cushions.

"It doesn't mean _shit_ (Y/n). It means absolutely nothing." Tim hissed, leaning down and looking you dead in the eye. You smelled fresh smoke on his breath, "I've done it before, Brian's done it before, but it doesn't last. It doesn't mean anything. You don't think we didn't try for years to get away? There's not a hope in hell that you can _ever_ overcome it. Do us a favor, _give up."_

Lips pulled into a tight line, brows scrunching together, teeth gritting, that was the dumbest thing you'd ever heard. "I'm not going to give up because I love you stupid motherfuckers, okay?! You have no fucking right to get all pissy with me when I'm trying to fucking _help you!"_

"So was cutting me open helpful, (Y/n)?" Tim snarled sarcastically, "Nothing you've done to it has made _any_ impact. Nothing's changed!"

"Well that doesn't mean that it won't ever change anything!" He was thinking too pessimistically, then again he had years of experience in your own little pocket of hell, "Fucks sake, you've done so much for me, even though you killed a shit ton of people I fucking knew," You spat the venomous words out feeling a tinge of resentment, "But I still love you assholes. Why wont just let me do this for you?!"

"We can't protect you." For once when he was so deeply upset with you, Brian spoke, a flat drone of forced apathy, "If you keep challenging it, it might kill you and we won't be able to save you. You'll do nothing but hurt yourself and us."

"I don't need saving!" You cried, jerking forward only to be pushed back down. All of them towered over you, trying to make you feel helpless, which you were to them. You wouldn't be intimidated, "You do!"

"We don't deserve to be saved." Tim's tone was angry but it held the heavy truth. Bastards like them, bastards like you, you all deserved the very worst, but you didn't want what you deserved, you wanted to be selfish. 

"(Y/n) you cuh-can't win against it." Toby's fingers dug harshly into your exposed shoulders. Growling out the words but the ideas behind them were surprisingly coherent, "Things _will_ get wuh-worse for you if you kuh-keep trying." His grip loosened a moment as he rolled his shoulders back, "For fuh-fucks ssssuh-sake, give it up."

"No." Tim opened his mouth to rattle off more bullshit about how helpless the lot of you were, you beat him to the punch, "I can take it." You said on a manic high, probably about to crash, "I'm still alive, I can still walk, talk, all that shit. You don't have to fight, I get what you've gone through. You're tired and I get it but I'm not down and out yet. I can fight for all of you." Said the fool to her fellow vicious murderers. 

They were strong physically and mentally but at some point The Operator broke them down so badly that they couldn't fight it anymore. The small window of opportunity open for it to take, the interest in it wanting to take them on as meat puppets driving it to drag them into hell. The most they could do, if anything at all, was stand up. Only Tim had proven to be able to do that, maybe Brian had as some point but he didn't care to anymore. Completely subservient to the twink, not okay with it but letting his life rot away under its influence because he was tired of the fight. Dealing with it for years. You only had extreme exposure to it for a few weeks and you were still willing and able to fight.

Toby pushed you further into the couch, your back flat about the cushion, his body hovering over yours; you weren't a fan of being held down like this. It made you feel weak, under their thumb, at their mercy, which you technically were. You weren't weak, with everything you'd gone through, all the fights, chases, the kills, you weren't something to be bullied into submission. 

"Get up then." Toby suggested in a snarl, "If you're ssss-so ssstruh-strong then get up." You knew what he was doing. Trying to draw a line between physical and mental strength. It didn't matter how strong any of you were. All of of them could throw you across a football field not problem but they were still susceptible to the business twink's influence. It was a flimsy comparison. 

You may not have the physical strength to get him off of you but you had your thoughts and a working mouth to push them out, "On my own I can't." You spoke the words out carefully, thoughts formulating too quick to be considered, "But if Tim and, or Brian grab you then I can. We have the relationships that bind us, dumb ass. There is no going at it alone with us." You came to a realization, "Maybe if we all fight back we can-"

"No." Brian deadpanned. The single word cutoff sliced through your argument, like a knife.

"What?" Your head snapped to the man, looking unimpressed by your speech that was honestly straight out of some shitty shoujo anime.

"No." He repeated himself before cruelly continuing, "Do you not remember what happened to Sully?" The name rolled off his tongue with no emotion, the name brought you bitterness and self hate. "You loved each other but it still made you kill him. Relationships are important to keep it together but they won't save anybody, **he** will use them to his advantage. It's a weakness, **he'll** use anything he can to hurt you if you don't stop." 

The mouth that you'd obsessively brushed in the bathroom, cleaning your teeth of blood with a peppermint toothpaste, hung open. You ate the raw flesh of another living thing, thoughts of Sully horribly sticking to your brain. How your body rejected him, how he couldn't be saved by your love for one another. You'd known him for years, you never had any serious arguments as you both knew how to communicate your feelings, there was acceptance, tender kindness, love. He still died by your mind controlled teeth. Love was useless for him, always failing him in his relationships and with you. 

It was a low blow but it was true. There was no escape, there was no magical way out, love was here but it would not be your key to escape. That only happens in Disney movies.

"Why?" You hollowly let the word slip passed your chapped lips, coming down from your pedestal of pride. Joy of standing up to a god like creature dissipating, reality coming back to you, the pathetic murderous cannibal and now garbage eater that also ate another garbage eater.

"Why what?" He was still angry with you, your gall to speak to them the way that you did even when they were trying to talk some sense into you. Yet at the drop in your tone, you haughty walls crumbling around you, he softened his voice, eyebrows knitting together softly. 

"Why do you want me to live?" You knew why, but you needed to hear it. You needed to know for sure, a verbal confirmation, that they were only angry because they cared, because you were worth it, because they loved you. You needed to hear it because if you didn't, you'd break. You knew the second your will dropped, then **he** would know. And you'd be stuck with them in this dead end job. 

They wanted you to submit, give into the twink's will so all of you could live out the rest of your days together because they loved you. Though Tim and Brian had yet to say it to you and you hadn't to them, there were obvious feelings there. They needed your love but they needed you to break so they could keep loving you. You'd only break if they stopped, but you knew they wouldn't. Life is shitty and they'd take good things where they could get them. It was like a candle and a flame, needing one another to function but there was no inordinate amount of wax, no unlimited time. Your love was burning fast and bright, selfishly melting the candle away. The candle would only get to remain if the flame was snuffed out. You would have to submit to stay with them.

Toby's grip loosened. You felt a pang of victory, he realized what he was doing, that he was hurting you. He held you without contempt, his hold soft but his fingertips on the developing bruises he caused had your skin dully throbbing. He loved you, that's why he stopped, considering your ability to feel pain. It was a mistake on his part, the stubborn bastard within you told you that you were being let go because he cared, he loved you. Your history, feelings for one another, relationship, had him letting go. Love could help. Maybe, the reasoning you had going through your head was quite flimsy.

You don't know if they caught onto the circumstances that it'd take for you to break or not but the words still passed through his lips.

"Because I fuh-fucking luh-love you." His hands glided from your shoulders and to the side of your face. You received verbal validation as well as a quick peck on the lips, moisturized and smelling of cherry chapstick. The balls of his septum piercing brushing against your skin. He was still mad though, so he pulled away quickly, but he didn't let go of you or fully stand up, leaning over you still, "I don't wah-want anything bad tuh-to happen to you, sssstuh-stupid ass." He jerked his head to the side with a grimace, "I'm sss-so fucking skuh-scared of that th-thing and I don't wah-want it do to you wha-what I think it did to muh-me." The unsure but terrified use of the phrase 'I think' from the teenager had your stomach dropping. It made him forget what happened to him. Letting only ideas of people and flashes of memory remain of his past. What if it made you forget too? 

You had a feeling he was only speaking so sweetly though his anger because he couldn't bear to see you break down. He was going to quickly comfort you, then go right back to showing you how mad he was.

His hands removed themselves from your face, he stood to his full height and leaned back. No longer holding you down but towering over you once more. Just as you thought, he was still upset with you. With one last look of contempt and adoration, he padded out of the living room. Needing some space away from you, the source of his conflicting feelings. He was probably going to punch his wall and get blitzed out of his mind. His door slammed shut with a wall shaking ' _thud'_ , leaving you with Tim and Brian.

Brian was sure to be the one to catch on at first, if at all, to the requirements of your broken will. If he did know, he didn't show it, the possible conflict for him. 

If you broke there was the possibility of you falling head first back into the black lagoon that was love. Yet for that to happen, they'd have to let you down. Hurt you more then they ever have, leave you even more hateful than before. You accepted them as they were, but if they stabbed you in the back one more fucking time for the sake of their selfishness, you wouldn't forgive them. Them depriving you of love would seem selfless in their heads but to you it was cowardly. Wanting to let you rot in this misery with them for the rest of your lives until it decided that you weren't useful anymore. You made it very clear that you didn't want to be a proxy, over and over again. Willing to be a depraved gutter rat over becoming one of them. It they let you become a proxy, if they stopped their onslaught of love, you'd hate their fucking guts.

Brian surged forward, the space between you dissapearing with an alarming speed. One calloused hand wrapped around the side of your head, lightly pulling you forward. He pressed a firm kiss onto your lips, you hardly had time to process it before he'd removed his lips from yours. The hand that had rested on your cheek moved to hover before your lips. You looked at him quizzically before this thumb and index finger grabbed a thin single strand of hair from between your lips that you hadn't even noticed. He quickly pulled it from your mouth while standing.

It made your stomach lurch, you doubled over, slapping a hand over your mouth as you heaved at the memory of the soft fuzzy animal squealing between your teeth. A disgusting reminder of Sully right after the harsh news that love was not good for anything other than a boost of dopamine. If Sully was here, he'd side with you, an idiot who never got to love like you did, no romance. He'd make the argument for romantic love being powerful as fuck, that mixed with their familial love, he'd say with that you could do anything. Though you would never be completely sure because he was dead. Remains vomited up in a trash can that was dumped somewhere in the woods. 

Nothing was pushed up through your esophagus, the contents of your guts expelled on the rocky road only thirty-ish minutes ago. You took a shaky breath, straightening yourself and meeting his eyes. Letting apathy fall away for a moment as you looked up to him with wide eyes, brimmed with the tears that came with gagging. All you got was a lightly furrowed brow, mouth ajar in a barley noticeable frown, concern. He was mad, scared, baffled at your devil may care attitude, but he still loved you. He'd never said it but you had an idea. His mask of disinterest quickly slipped back on, you wondered if he let it slip on purpose, another silent reminder that he cared for you. He had spoken earlier, which was something that he didn't do when he was upset. Pushing through his habits, his comfort zone for how he coped with anger, just to tell you to give up, to bring comfort to himself more than the silent treatment did. Hoping he could talk some sense into you, the senseless.

"Thanks Brian." For the validation, love, and getting the raccoon fur out of your mouth.

Blinking one last time at you, he turned on his heel and walked into the kitchen. You presumed to make some food or to grab Goober's leash to walk the pup. You'd been out for some time, you held back a smile at that he probably peed on Brian's floor. The latter proved to be correct as the man exited the kitchen almost as soon as he came in, leash in hand.

"You know I'm the leader right?" Tim's voice had you looking away from the hallway and to him. Standing before you with crossed arms. His face was still healing, though it was nearly back to its normal state. Fading lines of pink on his skin, where the hatchet had slammed into his skull over and over. You wondered how long it took the lot of them to recover, how long you were eating garbage. The last time it took over you were gone for days, hardly remembering any of it because it didn't want you to.

An idea popped into your head that you could try to remember, mentally overcome the equivalent of a parental controls banning certain websites on a computer. You were going to find a way to get a look at those memories, maybe. Did you even want to know what you'd done in your missing time? It'd probably make you hate yourself even more but it'd be a step forward, a god awful one, but progress was progress. 

"Yup." Two shots of dopamine wouldn't keep your regrets away for long. Tim's incoming lecture was sure to bring you down even further. You weren't okay but you were better than last time you ate flesh. It was a few hints of guilt mixed with acceptance, that was the part you hated the most. The fact that two people died that night, some of the responsibility on your hands, mostly on the second kill, didn't have you having an immediate breakdown. You kinda didn't care but that's why you did. Your growing lack of empathy for the corpses you left in your wake was a testament to how you were changing, becoming more like them. You asked yourself, was that so much of a bad thing? Didn't you want to be completely apathetic to death, deal with less mental damage, was being like them that bad?

Stop.

You couldn't embrace acceptance, apathy, that'd be throwing in the towel. You'd let yourself hurt over your growing lack of empathy but not embrace it as a sick coping mechanism. 

"Good. It'd do you well to fuckin' remember that, ya'know?" Said the leader to the newbie. Someone higher on the food chain but not by much because the both of you were eclipsed by that thing. If he took up the mantle himself or if his position was assigned, you did not know, either way he was in charge.

You saw Brian walk out of the hall with Goober following close behind in your peripherals. The pup looked your way, trying to walk over to you but was gently tugged back. He whined, dragging his paws on the carpet a few moments before giving in. Giving up to his circumstances and going with the path of least resistance even though he wanted something else, love. Your love.

"Why?" You echoed your earlier question, thoughts of escape jumbled with thoughts of them. 

"As the leader," He sounded so conceded, a stick shoved up his ass, "It's on _me_ to take the heat from **him**. Got that? Stop all the self sacrificial bullshit. Who the fuck do you think you're kidding (Y/n)?" He sounded upset, disappointed, trying to convince you to let him hurt the most, what a bleeding heart. He didn't let you get a word in, not letting you bite back as he delivered the verbal equivalent as a kick to the stomach, "You know you hurt us right? When you do that shit, be all fuckin' reckless, you make us feel more powerless than we already are." Was it out of not being able to protect you or how weak at the knees you made them feel, filling their stomachs with butterflies? " _Please_ give up."

Despite the gunshot wound in your leg from Brian, the hatchet to Jen's back from Toby, the metaphorical knife in your back from Tim, the pain from all of them, you dreaded the idea of hurting them. Having them be messed up was enough to send you into a blind murderous rage. Yet you didn't hurt them physically, just now that is, you'd done plenty to them. You were hurting them emotionally, kicking them when they were down. Fuck you sucked. Remorse for hurting them cut deep but not deep enough to make you stop. This was for their own good.

"Never." You didn't need to formulate an articulate response. You could lie to him, put him at ease, but you don't lie to people you love. 

He ran a hand through his dark hair with a hissed sigh, "You know you're the most stubborn motherfucker on the planet right?" Exasperation and admiration that he was trying to hide. The spark of unspoken validation only made you feel better about your choice to stand, to fight. 

"That's me." You droned out, tired emotionally, mentally, and physically. Though you did feel a good cry coming on, it was needed. A break from being pissy and affectionate. You just wanted to be sad for a while then get back to your bullshit.

Tim was dense but he could tell you were slowing down, fighting spirit braining bright but you didn't have the energy to show it off as much anymore. Sympathy taking over anger but not completely drowning it out he spoke, "You know you're stupid, right?"

"The stupidest." Part of you reveled in the self deprecation, telling you that you deserved to be in pain like this, that you were booboo the fool, a circus clown that was going to rightfully die soon.

"Shut up." Tim snapped, a tinge of anger back in his voice. "You're not stupid." Wow. High praise from leader man, adverse to affection, hating touch but liking company like a cat. Before you could open your mouth to protest, he continued but not to compliment your intelligence, letting the subject drop with the quick affirmation, "You know I like you right?" 

He didn't look away, he held eye contact, a soft gaze and pink cheeks. 

You weren't quite expecting that either. His feeling had been implied in the past or with the kiss in the car, acted out on. It was a wordless act of affection, he was garbage with his words. 

Validation, comfort, care, he was giving it to you on a silver platter. You felt like you were the worst person on the planet but he was probably worse. You loved him anyway, he loved you anyway. It was nice even when you didn't feel that you deserved him, all of them.

You pushed the words out with a genuine smile, weak but present, "Yeah. You're kinda shit at hiding it but I like that," You huffed out a laugh, leaving him hanging for a second, him looking at you desperately, "And you, like, a lot."

No hands were put on your face, he just bent in half arms still crossed. He quickly leaned forward, you barley had time to tilt your head so your noses wouldn't harshly collide, letting you eyes fall shut. His lips were dry but warm, pressing so hard into yours that you could feel your teeth press against the flesh of your inner lips. It was awkward, janky, not very touchy, very Tim. You smiled against his lips, the kiss was already hard but you pushed back, returning his awkward affection.

He pulled back not lingering near your face very long before he stood up. Red faced with a smile and gaze full of affection, he spoke, "I'm still mad at you, fucker."

You were still depressed and hated yourself but you were still stupidly smiling up at him. Love wouldn't magically fix all of your problems but it sure made you feel great.

You'd have a cry after you teased him, "You like me!" You sounded like a grade schooler, victoriously rubbing his affection in his face while you felt the same. 

He shook his head, sighing and trying to hide his smile but he couldn't hide the joy behind his fake exasperation, "Fucks sake."


	43. 42 - Lingering Presence

In the few days since you'd all gotten home, the boys had been distant. Not very distant, but they gave you light and tender touches way less often. You got a few more lectures here and there from Tim. Brian quietly babied you over the graze on your throat and the myriad of scratches on your face.

Despite being a mother goose, Brian was still Brian. You could tell he was coming around a lot quicker than he let on, because yesterday he may or may not have pinned you to his bedroom wall and made out with you for ten minutes. You were confused but took the affection anyway, a pleasant distraction. Then he said some shit, calling you out once more for being kinda into being scared and just as it was about to get good, he had to go on a mission. He hadn't been home since. Cockblocked by someone besides Tim for once.

You were left terrified and jokingly wanting to call you somebody to pick you up. Yet you didn't because all you had was them and you were genuinely into it. Brian read you like a fucking book.

Toby had been the most distant though, staying in his room to smoke or going outside to draw for hours at a time. Not inviting you once, always mumbling to himself, looking over his shoulder, nothing was ever there but whatever unseen thing he looked at had him walking faster. 

You didn't quite know how to help, and Tim or Brian would usually go to aid the boy. Comforting him in ways that you could not because of your lack of experience. Brian only gave you a vague idea of what was going on. He was hallucinating. Not just soft voices in his head or shifting shadows out of the corner of his eye, but full bodied people. breathing and blinking, tormenting him. He wouldn't tell you more than that, if Toby wanted to let you know, then he'd inform you himself.

The self hate that came with adding another body onto the growing pile was strong. Yet time moved on, waiting for nobody. As much as you stayed in those thoughts for hours on end, sobbing into the couch cushions, it wouldn't take it back. Everything turned out fine anyways, you were alive, even more fucked up, but alive. Tim was alive, still huffy with you for bashing his brains, in but alive. 

Man, the aftermath of killing someone sucked. You weren't going to be over it anytime soon, your crimes would hang over your head for a lifetime. Never going away but slowly becoming easier to cope with. 

Sitting on the couch, leaning on the armrest with legs curled into your torso, you read. Tim had lent you one of his books to read, at long last something to entertain yourself with other than TV infomercials. Before Brian headed out though, you did request for him to bring home some crosswords, but he'd yet to return. That was fine, you were enjoying reading.

Tim sat in his armchair, guitar held in his hands and idly strumming away. Not singing, maybe being considerate to the fact that you were trying to read. The cords were a somewhat cohesive, a repetitive slow melody. 

The book he'd lent to you was a ratty copy of 'Gone Girl', the pages were covered in notes and scattered codes, you assumed Brian had read it before you. You found yourself relating to the book's villain, some crazy bitch named Amy who just loved causing problems and being a rat. Though you didn't think you enjoyed it as much as her, it was nice to relate to a character, even if she was the literal worst. So were you and that was kinda okay.

And yet, you were growing bored. As much as you were enjoying yourself, relating to being a nasty and feral woman, you hadn't opened your big mouth in hours. Reading about chaos made you want to be chaotic. As much as you could in a living room, alone with Tim. 

He hadn't mentioned your quick kiss in the passing days. He had been hanging around you though. When he wasn't lecturing you, he was sitting comfortably in the same room as you. His form of affection, he wasn't the most touchy but he seemed to greatly appreciate spending quality time with people. Feet away and doing different things. Which wasn't a bad thing in the slightest, you respected his love language. 

The first step you took in your romantic relationship was harshly rejected. Now though, he'd taken the rest of the steps in your relationship, taking an awkward lead as the two of you made up. If you didn't do anything then you both would be at this comfortable standstill for awhile. It was nice but you wanted something more. You were bored, wanted affection, and wanted to be a bit of a bastard. 

Your first step as a bastard was folding the corner of the page that you were on in on itself. Leaving it dog eared. Real chaotic shit right there. You set the book on the coffee table and pushed yourself up from your seat with a soft sigh. Tim glanced up at you, your eyes met and he looked away.

"What the fuck are you lookin' at?"

His words were meant to come off as abrasive but they just came off as bashful and shy, what a baby. "You." 

"Me?" He sounded quizzical, questioning your motives, but also if you were actually looking to him because of your affections. Pink cheeks and looking to the strings of his guitar, not used to this sort of thing.

You made your way over to his armchair, throwing yourself on one of the armrests, an arm thrown over the top of the chair, the ends of his dark hair brushing your arm. Close but not touching him. Smiling smugly down at him, you said nothing, odd behavior for yourself.

"What?" He looked back up to you but not scooting away. Not closing to distance between you both, but not increasing it. 

A standstill that one of you had to break. He'd taken the lead before so you figured it was your turn. You took his chin between your thumb and index fingers, his unshaven five o'clock shadow brushing the soft pad of your thumb. Gently guiding his face slightly more upward as you leaned down. 

He didn't move either because he was a dead fish when it came to romance or because he was surprised. Either way, your lips met in a much more pleasant fashion than the last time they did. With you at the lead, you didn't roughly slam your lips into his. Though you were desperate for touch and love, you knew how to properly smooch somebody. Making sure that either one of you didn't have your teeth pressing against the inside of your lips was key.

His lips were still chapped, now that you were kissing and expected to be kissed more often by him, you'd have to start demanding that he'd use some of the excessive supply of chapstick that you all had. You'd already got Brian and Toby hooked on it.

Proving yourself to be more affectionate and the better kisser of you two, you let your lips linger on his for some time. Not doing anything too crazy as you knew that he was repressed, not used to this sort of thing. 

Pulling away but keeping your hand under his chin, thumb slowly brushing back and forth feeling his stubble shifting beneath your skin. You hovered your face a few inches away from his, drinking in his dumb founded expression. Eyes wide but with a soft gaze, lips parted, and a soft blush. _Nice._

He babbled out a few sounds of surprise but formed no coherent words. You snickered as his mouth opened and shut over and over like a fish out of water.

"Cat got your tongue, Timothy?" You wanted to see how far you push him, slam your hands on all his buttons and see what kinda shit happened.

"You," Finally a real word spilled passed his lips, "You just?" You snorted at his confusion, the fact that he didn't pull away. Perhaps looking to be kissed once more. 

"I just what?" You rose your brows, challenging his repressed ass. You were going to break this man's romantic walls down with the emotional equivalent of a sledgehammer. You knew exactly what you were doing.

He shut his trap, swallowing a lump in his throat. Trying to form thoughts into words while glancing at your lips. 

"Come on leader man," You huffed out the nickname with a laugh, being the one leading the situation, playfully condescending, "Use your words."

Asking Tim to use his words was a fools errand. He was more of a man of action, more so when he was in control. More so when the moment had an emotional charge to it, meaning and not just because he could. Being told what to did challenged his authority, but he was also an emotionally constipated idiot. You didn't know if he'd take you up on your challenge or if you'd continue to take the helm. 

"Shut up." He growled, inching closer but not quickly closing the gap. 

You'd obliged gladly but you'd still take your edge on him, being a bastard about his coy approach. Though he may see himself as someone to be in charge, he wasn't right now and he didn't know what to do. It was amazing.

Grinning at his unsteady approach, you surged forward, tiling your head and letting your eyes fall shut. Pressing your lips into his, smiling against him. Applying more pressure than you had last time, testing the waters for his reaction. The touch of your nerve ridden flesh sent off shots of dopamine to your brain. He didn't recoil but he didn't touch you either. You huffed, you wanted something a little more passionate. You wanted to push things further.

The step was taken in the form of parting your lips, silently telling him to open up his as well. You sat there, mouth slightly ajar and waiting for him to follow your lead. After a few awkward seconds of just sitting like that, you were just about to smack him upside the head, telling him playfully that he sucked at this. Then, he parted his lips. You hummed, moving once more, slow and steady. 

When your mouths closed together with a soft peck, you felt like you were going to go fucking crazy. It was great, your lips were tingling and your brain was off the shits, full of serotonin. But it was so slow, passionate, but slow. You knew he was probably going to take it slow for some time and you respected that, but he could go slow while you still pushed his buttons. 

You pulled away, lips begging you not to but mind over matter. Matter being your body wanting a motherfucking kiss right now. You were going to get more and then some. Tim was frozen in place, red in the face, looking at you with adoration and mild annoyance. Maybe not too keen on you taking so much control. Interesting. 

You grabbed the neck of his guitar with the hand that wasn't supporting your weight on the chair. You gently lifted it from his loosened grip, dragging it across his body and setting it against the side of the chair. Freeing up his lap. His hands stayed in place, sitting in the air, holding nothing but looking like he was going to play the guitar that was no longer there. 

Snickering at his shock, you shifted your weight, swinging one leg across the armchairs width and letting your knee and shin settle right beside his leg. Brushing up against his jeans, he dumbly blinked. "What the fuck are you doing?"

"He speaks!" You laughed but didn't continue your advance, waiting for a cue to continue or to remove yourself from him.

"Of course I can talk." He huffed, settling his arms by his sides but not touching you. Not grabbing you and dragging you into him but not pushing you off either. God, can this guy do anything to advance or deescalate the situation? 

"Alright," You guessed you had to do all the work to get him started, "Then how about you tell me what you want." You tilted your head, trying not to come off as too cocky, because if he rejected your advance it'd be a bit more awkward.

He pulled his lips into his mouth, thinking while shifting them back and forth. You'd already proven to have some patience, dealing with his shit automatically made you a god at waiting for some love. Though it was wearing thin.

"Hm." You shifted your arm that rested atop the chair and leaned back like you were going to get off him. "I'll just leave you be then." You made a show of looking away from him and to the kitchen, you could go for a snack. 

"Wait." Hook, line, and sinker. Your head snapped back to him, face hardened but still blushing. 

_"Yes?"_ He didn't want you to get off of him but you wanted to hear him say it. 

He snarled weakly at your haughty tone, "Don't go." His voice took on a more authoritative and commanding tone. Interesting. 

You weren't going to so easily hand him the reigns, but you did want to sit on his lap. You let your other leg fall next to his other leg, settling your weight down on his thighs. His arms hovering in place still, twitching but not making a move to touch you. Out of respect for your boundaries or because he was flustered. You assumed it to be the latter, you'd proven multiple times to be all about touch. 

You set your hands on either one of your thighs. Though he'd growled out the command, he'd gone quiet once more. You'd let him have a few seconds to process the fact that you were on his lap. You didn't think that he'd touch your more than he already was, his legs under you. 

The staring contest when on for some time, one waiting for the other to make a move. Well, you were more so waiting for him to give you another cue. He didn't though. If you wanted to you could have just staring at him for the longest time. You didn't want that though, you leaned forward, putting one hand beside his head. Softly caging him in, not that it'd do anything. The man could snap you in half over his knee if he wanted to. But he didn't. 

He wanted this too, leaning forward. He closed his eyes first, waiting. You wanted to pause, to tease him and make him wait like he did to you. Yet your patience had worn thin and you knew he wasn't doing it intentionally. He just didn't know what to do. You wondered when the last time he kissed anybody was. Knowing only vaguely of his relationship with the deceased man, Jay. It'd been a few years. 

Butterflies fluttered in your stomach, he was trusting you with his heart. Even though you were still testing the idea of breaking it with your possible death by not ceasing your attempts at the twink's patience. You wondered if Jay was also this reckless. 

Pushing the man from your head, wanting to focus on Tim and not his ex, you pressed your lips to his. Soft flesh melting together, warm and pleasant. You didn't give him another ten minutes to gather his barrings, you parted your lips with a hum that told him to follow or else. The 'or else' being that you'd get up. 

He was once more following your lead, but this time with a warning growl that sent soft vibrations through the sensitive flesh of your lips. Confirmation that you were pushing all the right buttons. With the sound from him, he pressed harder into you, thankfully not as aggressively as the first time that you kissed. At least he understood how awkward that kiss probably was. Good on him for using his three brain cells. 

You still took the helm, though you knew he wanted it, he made no moves to yank it from your grip just yet. Comfortable enough with you to kiss you but probably still hyping up his fried brain to do anything other than sit there and be kissed.

With a soft smack, your lips shut and quickly found one another again. With every millimeter of his open mouth, you could practically taste bitter smoke that wafted up from his lungs. You hadn't touched his tongue in the slightest but you could taste ash. It was kinda nasty, but then again, Toby's kisses were the messiest and wettest kisses you'd ever received. There wasn't much that could gross you out in regards to kissing.

As time ticked on by, your slow movement became less led by you. With his gained bearings, he'd done his best to fall in step with you, no one taking the lead. The two of you enjoying the feeling of your lips sliding over one another. Slow, testing out one another, savoring the moment.

He didn't sigh or moan, you just felt soft and steady breathing, one hand resting on his chest lightly. Maybe he was too embarrassed to be vocal, maybe you had to introduce the idea to him to get him going. That and going just a little further with your act of affection.

Just before you were due to start another round of smooches, lips shut and slightly parted, ready to meet once more, you let out a huffy laugh, running the tip of your tongue across his bottom lip. He sucked in a breath, tensing under you. You pulled your tongue back into your mouth, waiting for a reaction or if you should lead the situation once more. There wasn't too much distance between the both of you, not much room to gain speed. Somehow the speed at which he slammed his mouth into yours felt like it was going to bruise your lips. 

After the initial rough impact of your flesh, a jolt of pleasure and pain shot up to your brain. Tim lessened the pressure, learning from his mistake but still harshly pressing his lips into yours. The both of you had a silent agreement to move faster, enough with the slow shit, it was time for moderately paced shit. He made a show of moving his lips faster than yours, making you play catch up. Being a dramatic bitch about kind of taking the lead. Though it wasn't a complete hold of dominance just yet, as an opponent in smooching you wouldn't let him win dominance so easily. As a teasing rat bastard you were going to make him either work for it or not have any of it at all.

Things were starting to get real interesting when you pulled your hand from his chest to place it over one of Tim's large hands. Gently interlacing your fingers in between his and dragging it over to your hip. He let you lead him, not in an act of submission, but in an act of not understanding exactly how to go about the situation and not understanding your boundaries. You let his palm rest at the top of your hip, pressing lightly into the top of his hand. Letting him know it was all good to get a little handsy. Though he didn't have to, he could get grabby at his own pace.

He didn't pull his hand away, fingers ever so gently squeezing your clothed flesh. Growling against your lips, a huff of warm and bitter breath entering your mouth. It didn't taste the greatest but you hummed against him, the sound that you wanted hear from him sending a shiver up your spine. A wet smack played through the air, mouths trying to move faster than the other, both of you trying to overtake the other. Every time you clawed at control, yanking it from him he made a sound, halfheartedly telling you to give up, that you had no chance against him. Though you had a feeling that he liked the battle. The idea of slipping him the tongue once more popped into your head, you wanted him to return it, try to one up you.

You didn't get to carry it out though, as the front door squealed as it was torn open. You pulled away from Tim, his face rouge, lips looking a little more moisturized from smooching yours, which were slathered in minty chapstick. 

At the sound of feet pounding against wooden floor, Tim's hand was yanked from your hip. You leaned back, turning to look at the doorway to the kitchen. That had to be Toby, Brian was always eerily quiet. You knew the boy was having a rough time, the loud footsteps could mean he was excitedly rushing towards you or purposely stomping, trying to relieve some stress. Feel in control. 

"Get off me!" Tim hissed as the footsteps grew louder. It was a quiet growl of a whisper, a weak snarl on his face. Not wanting Toby to catch the two of you, fully clothed, hands off eachother, in a mildly compromising position.

If you knew that Toby was in a better head space you would have stayed on Tim's lap. Tell him that he was getting a taste of his own medicine but if Toby was still in a rut like you thought he'd be, then it'd just be kinda a dick move. You pushed the truthful thought that it was a dick move either way to the back of your mind.

You gave Tim an unamused look, that wasn't how you tell a girl to get off your lap. Whatever, you'd give him a taste of his own medicine later. A fat lecture on not being such a rude bitch.

Pushing yourself back and dismounting from his lap, your socked feet hit the floor just as Toby came into the living room. Sketchbook tucked under one arm, hair disheveled, eye bags prominent and dark. He jerked his head to the side with a grimace. When he straightened himself up, his eyes darted to you and Tim, side to side before his head turned to the other corner of the room. There was nothing there but dull yellow walls. His breath still hitched, staring at the wall for sometime, like there was another person in the room. 

Tim dropped his blushy idiot act in favor of a more responsible and put together adult.

"Hey Toby." He spoke softly pushing himself up from his chair. Going to comfort the hallucinating boy once more, being more experienced in this sort of thing than you were. Though he'd sat you down a day or so ago when this all started. Since you were going to be living with them, you might as well know how to help when something like this happens and not, quote ' _sit there with your thumb up your ass'._

" _For starters, slow approach, be fuckin' gentle, okay? When he gets like this he's real jumpy, it's best to try to get his attention by calling his name. Don't raise your voice if he doesn't respond, it might fuckin' upset him."_

Tim had told you of his own schizophrenia, only hinting at the possibility that he hallucinated. Though there was confusion there, he didn't clarify if it was him seeing the twig or if he saw and heard things that genuinely weren't there. You wondered how Tim experienced the disorder, everyone experiences these things differently. Not every case fitting the same cookie cutter mold that the media portrayed, giggling children, dead people, monsters; making the affected into blood thirsty killers. Even if they were killers, their delusions were not the source of the violence that they inflicted. It seemed like the Operator preyed on mentally weak individuals, already worn down by the hell their brain's put them through daily, perfect for murder meat puppets.

Though Tim had walked you through the process of helping Toby out, you were still hesitant to act with Tim there. He had much more experienced and could probably help the boy way more than you could. There was no experience like the first hand in order to understand someone else's pain.

"Toby?" Tim took slow and quiet steps, as quiet as he could be. Trying to gently grab the poor boys attention, his eyes bulging from their sockets, wide with shock and horror. Mouth gaping open, gash elongating the 'O' that was his lips. With his lack of response, Tim switched up his script, "Hey buddy," He delivered every word with care, "It's alright. It's just me and (Y/n) in here."

" _Secondly, don't get all up in his face saying shit like 'it's not there, snap outta it'. That won't help him at all. Instead what you wanna do is like, gently suggest that it's not there but not make him feel stupid or 'crazy'. Antagonizing him or being blunt about it is a surefire way to fuck him up. For the love of god, don't do that shit."_

Like the flip of a switch his head snapped away from the empty corner, you couldn't see it but to him something was there. It was real to him.

His gaze flickered from the slowly approaching Tim, comfortable and known. To you, newer, a different stimulus. 

"(Y-Y/n)." He hollowly let your name spill past his lips, eyes glazing over, there was less terror there and more of a tired desperation. Doing a quick rolling back of his shoulders.

Tim ceased his approach, looking to you with tight lips. You met his eye, kinda catching Toby's drift but you wouldn't approach unless it was deemed okay. You remembered Tim's crash course on comforting a hallucinating Toby. Wondering if it'd ever come in clutch when it came to him, or maybe Brian. Though none of them had ever alluded to the idea that Brian experienced hallucinations. 

"Yeah?" You softened your voice but didn't add an edge to it like you were speaking to a child. You were here to be gentle, but not condescendingly so. 

"Cuh-come and hoh-hold me?" It wasn't spoken like a command though it was worded like one, his voice peaked, like he was asking you a question. It was the request of a tired man who just wanted something other than constant suffering. Probably wanting to talk to somebody, maybe hoping that you held the magic solution to make his hallucinations go away because love. The thing is about love, it can't make these kinds of things go away. It can be comforting and nice but your love and presence won't make it all go away. You'd be happy to help him though, seeing like this was heartbreaking but you couldn't imagine what he was feeling.

"Of course Toby." You didn't know if you should call him a pet name or not, if that'd be condescending or comforting. Though when he was having a breakdown on the kitchen floor he didn't reject the idea. You made your way to the mouth of the hall, and he shuffled toward it as well, not looking at either of you.

Before the both of you left Tim to his own devices, Toby looked to the man and spoke, "I'll be fuh-fine, Tuh-Tim, just nee-need a break." You very rarely heard the boy use his name, often referring to him as 'old man' or some other playful insult. He was trying to ease Tim's frazzled nerves, knowing he must be worried for him. Trying to ease someone else even when he was suffering, it was sweet.

You held out your hand for Toby to take if he felt that he needed it, almost immediately he latched his gloved hand to yours as Tim spoke, "Take care of yourself, Toby."

Tim returned the same respect, not speaking his name with mild irritation. Toby looked away from the man with a hum of affirmation, beginning to hobble toward his room. You gave Tim a curt nod, letting him know you remembered his crash course on comfort. You'd do you best, for Toby's and Tim's relief.

Toby led the way, eager to lay down, hopeful for a reprieve. He kept shooting glances over his shoulder, moving faster down the hall with each look.

Before the two of you laid down he set his sketchbook on his mess of an art desk. You briefly glanced at it, a pencil stuffed in its rings, and scribbled bodies. All of them had awkwardly bent legs, not because a lack of artistic prowess but because they were broken. Darker scribbles with harder marks implied indents in the figures body, crushed in. The faces were always just smudges of graphite.

He laid himself on his side, pressing his back to the wall for comfort, security. You lay before him, also on your side and facing him. As per his request you wrapped your arms around him. One over his side and under his arm, rubbing small circles into his back. The other coming up to gently play with his hair. 

His eyes were red with irritation, a dull sheen on his cheeks of tears wiped away, but the moisture not entirely gone.

" _Ya'know how much of a chatterbox the kid is. Well, when he gets like that he'll talk to the hallucinations, making it worse but he can't really help himself. It's up to one of us or in this scenario, you, to talk to him. Ask him what's going on but a lot less blunt n' shitty, you can't make him feel like he needs to answer. It'll stress him out even more. Give him the prompt to talk but don't force him to. If he doesn't want to talk about the hallucinations then keep talking or he'll start talking to the hallucinations over you. Talking to him won't stop the hallucinations but it'll help."_

"Would you like to talk about it?" You didn't really know how to start the conversation, you tried your best to word it so it was more open ended for him. More of a yes or no that can be added on to.

"Nuh-no." He spoke with a soft shake of his head, bringing his hands between the both of you and fidgeting with his gloves, pulling at the fabric but not removing them. He kept his eyes on the self stimulating movement, not speaking.

You had to say something, anything to him. Try your best to avoid potentially upsetting topics. You asked the first thing that came to mind, an innocent question, "Do you have a favorite book?"

He locked eyes with you, looking like he'd completely forgotten that you were there with him. You wondered if he was hearing things, them drowning out your presence so he stuck to trying to comfort himself. He blinked, processing the question. It was probably a silly question, you'd never seen him take the time to sit down and read. He seemed to prefer drawing over that, something to do idly but with a lot of movement if he wanted to express himself. The thing is, he was drawing some pretty disturbing stuff, you didn't want to bring it up with him. 

"Hah-Harry Potter." The words felt awkward on his tongue, familiar but like a friend's name that he hadn't spoke of in years, "The uh," His eyes darted around your face, unable to keep eye contact, "Th-the fuh-first one."

That made you smile, of course he'd like something like that. Not very deep, easy to digest, a fun world you can get lost in. Then it got a little sadder, shitty parents, people always holding the protagonist in a certain way just because of the circumstances of which he was born, not having any real friends until he left his home behind, staring a new life. It was a bittersweet idea, but you may be looking too deeply into it. The franchise was dearly beloved by many, it didn't have to be some one to one comparison of his murky upbringing.

You had to keep him talking, "What house do you think you'd be in?" The question was one that was widely asked on a surface level by many, a conversation starter that was light and if you were an asshole you could judge them someone if they said Slytherin.

"Th-the red on-one." You weren't going to get on him for not knowing or caring to name the house.

Though if he didn't remember or just needed a pick me up, you idly told him about it, even if he knew, it was something to talk about, "Gryffindor! Bravery, courage, determination, all that cool shit."

You were going to ramble on, compliment him and bring up examples of how he fit all of those traits. It'd probably end up being an over explanation but you felt the need to ramble in his distressed presence. Keep him busy. 

His eyes suddenly shot away from your face and locked onto something behind you. He looked upset before, brows in a twitching furrow, lips in an ever present frown, but then he saw whatever his brain projected behind you. Eyes wide like they were in the living room, mouth falling open, nostrils flaring as he began to take gasping breaths. Shaking and twitching, his mouth fell open and shut as he tried to form coherent thoughts. He was entranced with whatever he was seeing but this time he remembered your presence, he asked, "Do you sss-see huh-her?"

_"Do not, I repeat, do fuckin' not confirm that you see the hallucinations too. Should be obvious why. But don't insist that they don't exist either. You gotta let him know its not real but don't insist shit after that, like I said earlier, ya'know? If he tries to get you to interact with them, don't. Just try to comfort him."_

You didn't turn around, you didn't want to play into what he was seeing, for his own good You didn't want him to look at her whoever it was, you wanted him to feel safe.

"Hey." You rubbed circles into his hair, while applying a bit more pressure to his back. Trying to gently catch his attention. You took a page from Tim's book, putting things in a more you way, "Hey sweet thing," It was a dumb pet name, sickly sweet like when you'd last comforted him and what he did for you, though he'd still yet to tell you what the names meant, "Look at me." You didn't add 'and not at her', that wouldn't help, his muddied brain may take that as validation for what he was seeing. 

With a shaky exhale, he dragged his irises to meet your eye. "Oh-okay but," He glanced up quickly once more before looking back to you, "Sssh-she's not guh-going away." He jerked his head to the side with a grimace, "No matter huh-how many tu-times I try to luh-look away fruh-from huh-her. _Ssssh-she just won't go awah-away."_ It was like whatever he was seeing was a poltergeist, following him around no matter where he went. Trying to escape to the great outdoors, in the living room, and in your arms, 'she' followed him all the same. Sticking to his traumatized brain like glue, dragging him down even more than he already was with his mental state. He couldn't escape.

You didn't know who 'she' was, if she was a ghost of the past being projected by his mind or if her appearance was entirely formulated by his brain. Whoever, whatever, she was, Toby saw her and he was scared, distressed, looking at the thing with wide and teary eyes, his body shaking in your hold. 

You couldn't make her go away but you told him, "I'm here for you Toby. I've got you sweetheart." You didn't know if this would help, if he could hear things too, but you were going to try anyway.

His eyes were on you, he could see your advance but you still moved slowly anyway. Shifting yourself, worming your way a few inches up the bed and scooting closer. You could feel his hands fidget against your stomach, his rattling breaths on your neck. Gently pushing his head forward into the crook of your neck and moving your head to put your chin atop his messy locks. He caught on, quickly burying his head into your neck with a shuddering breath, his view of the thing blocked off. His legs kicked themselves around yours, you tangled your legs around his, further cradling him. You were like a weighted blanket, helping ground him and protect him from the monster his brain conjured up. 

He let out a wheezing gasp, body shuddering as he sniffled and whined. His hands unclasped from one another, latching onto the front of your shirt and clutching the fabric for dear life. Warm moisture seeped onto your neck as he whimpered. You didn't shush him, you wanted him to let it all out, "I've got you, I'm not going anywhere, I'm here, I love you."

You don't know how long it'd been, holding the quaking Toby, reminding him how you were there, that it was going to be okay. She did not go away, he could hear what sounds she made, he told you of her haunting moans, crunching glass whenever she moved, squelching muscles when she walked.

It was a miracle when his muffled sobs shifted into steady breaths. It wasn't long before he was drooling on you, soft breathing turning into roaring snores. You didn't stop rubbing his back and twiddling with his hair, it helped you when that was done to you. Toby was always one for warm touch just like you, touch starved and desperate to be loved.

Tim wasn't much of a cuddler anyway and Brian was on missions the most often for the longest periods. Toby didn't get too many opportunities to sleep in the arms of another, maybe he thought you'd be better because you loved each other. 

You willed yourself to stay awake despite the fact that the position was warm, comfortable, and sleep inducing. You were on watch, if he woke up from his slumber you wanted to be there when he was awake. Though your eyelids were weighing heavy, you powered through the agony of sleepiness with no slumber for Toby. 

It paid off. 

He started to jerk every once in awhile. At first you thought that he was just a restless sleeper, the type that if you slept in the same bed with him, he'd accidentally punch you in the face. That proved to be wrong when he started mumbling, at first it was single letters, elongated 'L's and grumbled 'M's. Sleep talk didn't automatically set off alarm bells, a lot of people sleep talk, it wasn't out of the ordinary. Then his mumbles of letters grew into a name and a title, " _Lyra._ " And then, " _Mom."_

You'd never heard of a Lyra from him. An old friend maybe? A name stuck to his brain tied to warm or bitter memories. Mom was a lot more obvious, a woman he hardly remembered outside of feelings of love. 

It got worse. He slurred out the words, the syllables hissing past his tongue, " _I'm sorry."_ You were starting to consider the idea of awakening him, he'd spoken of horrible haunting dreams. Your suspicions were confirmed as his words grew a desperate edge, his voice a strangled whine, " _I'm sorry!"_

You started with a very gentle, "Hey Toby."

He jerked, face twitching but eyes remaining shut, _"I'm sorry!"_

You applied more pressure to your touch, not wanting to shake him awake, not wanting to startle him, "Hey Toby baby, it's alright," You allowed your voice to grow in volume, "Get up sweet thing. It's alright."

His entire body jolted as he gasped, the top of his head banging into your chin painfully. With a soft grunt from you, you wormed away from him to see his face. Your neck was warm with drool, but you didn't have time to worry about that. He didn't look up to something behind you, his attention was focused on you, misty eyed and wheezing. 

There was no mystified wonder on his face. Instead he was red, face scrunched up in agony, teeth grit, tears slipping down his skin once more. His hands had relaxed in his sleep but with consciousness he gripped at your shirt once more. 

You were going to bring him words of comfort but he beat you to the punch, " _They're ah-all dead and it's hi-his fault."_ Spoken with conviction but cracking with sorrow. 

He needed to talk, you were there to talk with him. He needed to work though this, so you encouraged his talk, "Who's fault?" With the use of the word 'his' your mind first shifted to the skinny fuck. 

"My fuh-fucking _dad_." Though he was crying he still spat out the name with bared teeth. "It's all _his_ fah-fault." Not a single glance to the thing supposedly behind you. You were hoping the hallucinations had ceased but that didn't stop him from having that dream. "I do-don't know what he di-did but he kil-killed her." He rolled his shoulders back with a hissing breath.

Toby had admitted to the belief that he'd killed both of his parents. If this death wasn't on his hands but _his_ hands then this was a different person. "Lyra?" You didn't think, the name just passed through your lips.

No shock flickered by his face, probably aware that he chanted out words in his sleep. Instead he nodded with tight lips. "He-e was just sssuh-such a fuc-fucking piece of sssh-shit that I just!" From shocked terror, to sorrow, to being so angry that he had to stop talking to take a few deep breaths. Emotions flipping like a switch, he was panicked but you wanted him to get it all out. You waited for him, letting him spill out the information of his own accord. You'd egg him on when you felt the need to but you had a feeling he just needed a moment. 

There was no happy sadism when he spoke of killing his father to you like there had been before, "He was juh-just sss-so easy to los-lose control on." Words were growled out with a hateful conviction, "If I didn't ha-hate him _sss-so fuc-fucking much_ then ss-she wouldn't hav-have burned. I'd ssstuh-still fucking be _here,"_ Under The Operator's thumb, "But ssh-she'd be ah-alive."

You were completely lost but then again, he didn't remember too much. It wasn't to learn about him, but to push him to keep talking in the sudden lull of silence, "What?" You didn't know how to properly phrase the question. It covered the ground of general confusion though, encouraging him to talk as long as he needed to.

How did him hating his dad have to do with her burning? Was her burning Toby's fault, was Toby egged on by his dad? Was his torment what attracted The Operator to him? Trauma being like blood in the water for the eldritch shark.

"I think," God you hated the fucking twink for what he did to your boy, "I th-think sssh-she was my ssi-sister. Lyra." He sniffled, rage melting away to more of a tired sadness, long standing unresolved sorrow. 

Toby's dad killed his sister, maybe. Toby definitely hated his dad, though you didn't know if that was before or after the supposed slaying. He hated his dad so much that he killed him, if it was under its influence you didn't know. Maybe a fucked up mix of the static buzz and his own angry spite. He hated his dad so much that he killed a her, his mom?

"I lo-loved her." He glanced up, checking the area behind you for a hallucination. No terror crossed his face, she was gone for now. He switched topics, your brain having to play catch up for a few seconds, "There was th-this fire. Our hah-house. **He** lets me re-remember th-that part the muh-most. Her running oh-out of our hou-house," He screwed his eyes over and over, trying to wash away the mental imagery, his body quaking and his fingers clenching and unclenching in your shirt, " **He** lets me remember-ember sss-setting the house on ffuh-fire." Speech disorganized, not telling things in chronological order had your mind buzzing to piece the story together. "Sssh-she was ss-screaming ssh-she was on fire." He grimaced with a violent tic. "It wa-was right after I kuh-killed _him_. I was ju-just _sss-so fucked."_

Blinking, gathering himself to confess, "I can-can't remember wh-what sss-she looks like."

He killed his mom, possibility under **his** influence, setting his family home on fire and her getting caught in the literal crossfire that was his rage for his father. 

"I don't knuh-know her name." His face contorted once more, hollow sadness giving with and letting him hitch out a sob once more, " _I killed her ah-and I don't kuh-know her name."_

_Oh boy. Oh god oh fuck. How are you supposed to respond to that?_

You guessed that you'd do what you'd done before. Rub his back and reassure him.

You brushed a lock of curly hair from his forehead, meeting his misty eyes. It wasn't okay, you couldn't tell him it was okay, that'd be a lie that you were both aware of. A comfortable lie. Though you weren't going to call him terrible, a victim of circumstance just like you. You had to think of something else. Sharing a personal experience to some could be seen as making the conversation about you, but it was way for some people to show sympathy and solidarity, telling him that he wasn't alone. 

Though you were sure he'd killed plenty of people who's names and faced he didn't care to know or remember. He was numb to it where each kill to you was like a fresh wound. Some old and healing unevenly. 

"I know that feeling." Though your circumstances were different and his kill of a no name rattled him further than yours ever could, the both of you still killed people you hardly knew shit about. Though you learned their names later on, at the time of the kill, you knew nothing else but rage, desperation, or love. He blinked, staying quiet for you to continue. "First kill, didn't know his name when I killed him. Didn't really know why Dan wanted the kid to die at the time either. Got myself mixed up in this mess with him," Honesty was cool and all but you wanted a bit of a reprieve, though the entire ordeal was stressful and cathartic, you still needed a little haha in there, "All for pussy I didn't get."

Toby took a moment to process your words, you hoped he caught the drift of solidarity. He gave you a weak smile, halfheartedly finding amusement in your joke but still feeling bad for you, "Sss-sorry."

You were confused, "You didn't make me kill the kid, you don't have to be sorry."

"About Jen." 

Oh.

You'd let go of her, not her memory, but of your conflicting and old feelings. She was dead and buried, you left her corpse behind. Just another body in your wake, not your fault but she was a part of your life and now she was gone. 

Toby was the one who took her. Under **his** command. Yet he still laughed at you before you set Tim alight, laughed at your failed romance with her. They all did.

You hadn't forgotten about their sins toward you. You wanted an apology, though they'd atoned for their acts with their actions, you still wanted to hear it. The acknowledgment of what they did, an 'I'm sorry'. You'd just kinda pushed the desire to the back of your mind as of recent dizzying events.

His apology floored you, mouth hanging open and blankly staring.

"About fuc-fucking with you." 

Another added acknowledgement of what he'd done. You felt emotions swelling in your chest, ones that had you crying. Was it gratitude for basic fucking manners or a weight of resentment lifted from your chest?

Either way, you were sniveling like a big baby. You threw yourself forward without thinking, gripping at the back of his shirt and burying your face into his neck like he'd done with you. Toby mimicked your actions, hands untangling themselves from your shirt, one coming you rub your back, the other lightly burying itself in your (h/c) locks. "I've got you ssson-sonnenblümchen."

It was like taking turns, crying and talking about your shitty lives. You cried into him for some time, accepting his soft touch and words of reassurance with greedy need. He mimicked you once more, asking of something difficult but cathartic to talk about, "Wh-what was ssh-she like?"

Toby wanted to know about the woman who you'd thrown your life to the dogs for. Jennifer Baker.

"Why do you want to know?" That was a stupid question. You asked him things akin to that about his dead family because you wanted to further understand him. It was just harder to wrap your head around when you knew him as an enthusiastic murderer, cheering after he killed Dan, probably smiling when he landed the hit on Jen.

" _I wan't to knuh-know what I took from you."_ He insisted, cracking down a wall you didn't know that you had up.

"You didn't take anything from me. Our relationship ended almost five years ago now." He didn't start this mess, you were talking victim to victim, on the same level. 

"I sstuh-still killed her. Tell me. Puh-please." The wall of hesitation fell away as his soft begging. This was for both of you.

You didn't think, you just let the words spill out into his skin, "Thought she was fucking ethereal. Whole package, cute, funny, smart, resilient against Dan's edgy teenage bullshit. God I fucking hate that asshole." You told both of their killers about them, old love for one and always present disdain for the other, "In summary: The shit. I loved her so much before we killed Isaac."

"I'm suh-sorry." He echoed his earlier sentiment, it was nice but it was hollow air. His first apology was enough and things were different.

"Don't be." It wasn't okay but things had changed, "I'm glad that I had the experience that I did, ya'know?" You admitted into his flesh, pouring your heart out to her killer, Toby Erin Rogers, the man you loved. Now and not then. Stronger and with longevity.

"I do-don't." He shifted with a tic.

"Well," You were realizing things aloud, "She taught me how to fall in love. Gave me an idea of what it was the figure out that I was in love. Though knowing her got me here, knowing her also prepared me for everything that happened." Her brothers torment building up your spite, your fighting spirit. Jen building up you devotion to love, showing you that you relied on other people, that you were a lover and a protector. "Glad she did." You let out a bittersweet laugh, leaning into Toby, "Helped me a lot in figuring out that I'm in love with you."

Toby shifted back, you let him pull away. Looking up to him with puffy eyes, his were the same. The both of you emotionally exhausted messes. Smiling he placed a quick peck on your forehead. A spark of happiness lighting the way through a thick bog of darkness. 

Love couldn't fix every problem in the world, your trauma, Toby's hallucinations, the fact that you both had blood on your hands. Yet with love, your hands were intertwined, bloodied together.


	44. 43 - That's Some Wild Shit

**Content warning: Straight up NSFW / Heavy NSFW mentions**

**Reminder: There will be warnings at the start and end of the NSFW.**

You were on a mission and you were going to see it through. This morning, before heading out on a mission with Toby, Tim gave you the login info for Brian's computer. You had the world wide web at your fingertips for the first time in weeks. You could do fucking anything you wanted. Well, you didn't have a credit card so not anything.

The idea popped into your head a few days back when Tim was scolding you. The memory loss in the days leading up to Sully's death, you wondered if it could be overcame. You didn't know what would happen exactly if you jumped the hurdle that was the twig's forced amnesia, but you wanted to jump it anyway. The goal of escape was clear, but how you were going to get there was unknown to you. So you went with your one and only option of doing whatever you could to break its hold on your mind. 

The idea was tempting, to Google shit about the business twink. To see if other poor bastards were dragged into its shit. Maybe there were other proxies out there, making Youtube vlogs and video call outs about The Operator and it's stupid featureless face. One thing stopped you though, Brian. He wasn't at home, still on the long mission. There was no one else home to physically stop you.

The fact that you were alone for the first time in weeks was unnerving. A girl all alone in a cabin in the woods, what's the worst that could happen?

Brian had proved to know his shit when it came to computers. Even if you cleared your search history, you had a feeling he'd still get a hold of it. His stalking ass would be curious to know what you were doing on the computer anyways. The boys tightening your leash and clamming up wasn't an option you had. So, being careful about what you looked up to try to jog your memory was key. 

You tried looking at any content Youtube recommended that wasn't complete nerd shit. You didn't know what you did so you looked at whatever you could, trying anything to jog your memory, or just get a vague idea of what to do. 

You fell down a fucking rabbit hole and couldn't escape.

The joys of stupid internet bullshit had come back to you in the form of short videos. Regaining your memory, reducing the twig's grip, was important but so was your mental health. You needed a good laugh.

So when you saw a rainbow thumbnail reading ' _HOCKEY STICK HANDLE'_ in bold white letters, you were intrigued. When you looked at the title, ' _OBJECTS THAT I HAVE SHOVED UP MY ARSE (A Bruno Powroznik Classic)',_ you just had to click. Brian can't lecture you for that, he could misread it and be afraid, but he wouldn't catch on to jackshit.

_"Objects that I have shoved up my arse."_ A crude British voice boomed from the computers speakers, you had to turn the volume down as he began, _"Vibrators."_ The video was playing a low quality loop of a pixelated gay pride flag passing in the background while each item the man announced was listed off in bold white lettering, _"Dildos, pens, pencils."_ He continued while you snickered, relatively tame stuff but there was so much of the video left, " _Coins."_

Cackling while you banged your fist on the desk, he continued, " _Pebbles."_

_You didn't know how many pebbles you'd thrown at the poor son of a bitch's window but all you did know was that it'd been a lot, your arm tirelessly assaulting the thin pane of glass._

You gasped as the memory came back to you, just a flash, an idea of something you'd done. You knew if you were under the twigs influence it couldn't be anything good. You wondered what triggered the memory.

" _Broomstick handle."_

_She was screaming but you couldn't make out what she was saying the static deafening any sound around you. Lips were moving as she stood before you, tall and swinging a broom back and forth at you while you crawled forward, glass shallowly sinking into your palms._

What the fuck? You blinked at the computer, the pride flag passing by as the man spoke, " _Fishing rod handle."_ That brought you nothing, maybe it was specific words? You found yourself leaning toward the computer in awe, could this man saying things he'd shoved up his ass be a rung in the ladder you had to climb to freedom? Helping you get a grip on your mind away from the twink was some British gay man you'd never met. " _Umbrella handle,"_ Nothing, " _Toothbrush handle,"_ Still nothing, " _Hockey stick handle."_

 _"_ Come on you big gay sonnvabitch." You, another big gay sonnvabitch hissed at the monitor, "Gimme another." You were still laughing at his loudly pronounced words, wondering how the fuck he did any of that. Yet you were still stricken by terror, what had you done?

_"Fingers."_

_Screaming. Shrill and ragged. The salty taste of skin, sickening cracks between your molars like a carrot, the soft muscle easily giving way to your maw. The frail digit in your mouth, sliding past your tongue. Acrylic nail bringing a jolt of bitterness to the flavor of flesh._

You slammed the balls of your palms into your eyes, trying to will the imagery and sensations away. That wasn't you, you didn't willingly do that. You hoped whoever's finger you bit off was okay. Probably not. 

_"Small glass jar."_

_The static in your ears, you could feel your blood quake in your veins, your hands on the cold floor as you stalked forward. The broomstick on the floor, snapped in half, splinters in your gums. All she had left to defend herself with was the contents of her open cabinet. Grabbing the first thing she could, screaming and hurling the clear object forward. It shattered against the floor, sharp shards flying across the tile, none of the glass hitting you in a way that mattered in the slightest. She missed._

You threw a hand over your mouth, so you terrorized some poor woman and ate her finger, fingers? 

_"Test tube."_

You were about ready to cry, the violation of what **he'd** done to you, forcing you to either kill or harass some lady. But you also couldn't stop laughing, mental state an absolute circus. Celebrating you breaking the mold that it had put in place on your memory with a loud gay man and sheer fucking will power. Wanting to sob over what **he'd** made you do, pray that she was okay with a missing finger and trauma. Cackling over the idea of a test tube in somebody's ass.

" _Screwdriver handle."_ No more memories surged forward. That was fine, they were all mortifying. The flashed of what you'd done were good enough, massive steps towards your goal. The thing was you didn't know how many more steps you had to take or what to do to get the others to walk with you. You wondered if they'd ever done anything like this either, intentionally break the mold.

Would **he** know? Would you get punished for pushing passed his flimsy mental barriers?

You wanted to curl up in a hole and weep.

_"Stiff cocks."_ With a wheeze you surged forward, tears stinging your eyes as your body shook with laughter. The mystery at what you'd been subjected to was strong but the need to have a good time and not feel awful was stronger.

 _"Cigar."_ Lit or unlit? Had it been smoked or not? You needed to know but he did not clarify. Stomach aching from laughter, you wondered if Tim had ever shoved a cigarette up his ass. You wouldn't be surprised.

" _Banana."_ The video ended but your cackling didn't. The memories didn't wash away with the joy. Though it made it a little more bearable. Misery and victory.

Stomach aching, you forced yourself to get up and hobble to the kitchen. Mostly to put a now empty bowl of cereal in the sink. Though Brian was a messy bitch, you still wanted to be a somewhat courteous guest and not leave dirty dishes in his room. You were a cannibal not a fucking animal.

You'd had Brian's bedroom, the hallway, and kitchen lights on. It was the middle of the night and it was pitch black outside and you were a traumatized bitch. You also appreciated seeing where you were going. Though the kitchen and hallway lights partially flooded into the living room, it didn't stir Goober. Only appearing at the entrances of the living room, not reaching the dog sleeping peacefully on the couch. Being home alone with him all day gave you ample opportunity to play, walk, and cuddle with him. Today was wonderful, it was refreshing to be alone.

You set the bowl in the sink, there was no dishwasher. You, Tim, and Brian took turns washing dishes. Toby could no be trusted. Not because of his tics, if he tried hard enough he could suppress them but it was like holding in a sneeze, hard and made him look like he was going to piss himrself. It was because he thought it was incredibly funny to 'accidentally' let a plate drop to the floor just to make you jump at the sound. Loud sounds sucked for you, but it wasn't like that it was more of a sudden loud noise that didn't trigger your trauma. It was just him being a dick and destroying property. 

_**Thud!**_

Your head snapped to the door, ajar and swinging open and shut in the wind. It'd been howling eerily outside of the cabin all night, yet there was no rain to accompany it. You'd done your best to keep yourself preoccupied with Youtube as to not pay attention to it. It was just wind but it reminded you of shitty horror movies that you'd loved as a teenager. Your life had been a horror movie for awhile but you'd never gotten too used to it. It was silly but the sound made you jump, sharp and sudden.

It opened a little wider before slamming partially shut once more.

_**Thud!**_

You let out a shuddering breath, "Dumb ass."

You lightly insulted yourself while padding over to the door. You'd walked Goober a few hours ago and may have left the door open. Though if you did, why hadn't you heard it moving till now? All of the boys had keys to the house, you could lock the door without having to worry about them being stuck outside. Though they could probably pick the lock or break the fucking door down if they were locked out. So, the second you shut the door, you flicked the lock shut. Settling your nerves, you may be used to the boys but you were still a nervous wreck at times. You weren't genuinely afraid of them, your brain just had a hard time completely getting over a few things and that's just trauma, baby.

Feeling better but with a hankering to look at more clown shit, you turned around. You could have sworn you put the bowl in the sink, but here it was. Sitting on the counter behind you.

"Am I having a fucking stroke?" You approached the bowl, memory was a fickle thing at times. Was this the twig's way of punishing you? If so, pretty weak shit.

When you were going to grab the bowl, the kitchen lights shut off. _"Jesus fuck!"_

It was the exact opposite of a loud noise, it was quiet, just a shift of being able to see your surroundings to not being able to. Your heart rate had spiked from the door shutting but you'd calmed down for a second. The lights shutting off had your heart thundering once more, a hand slapping over your chest.

Taking in a few deep breaths, you quickly gathered your thoughts. This all added up a little too much. The door, the bowl, the lights.

" _Brian!"_ You shouted into the darkness. Looking around fruitlessly for the man that was probably there. You knew him to be quiet, a sneaky bastard, but you didn't think he'd be this much of a douche. You swung your arms around, hoping that maybe your hands could find him if he planned on sneaking up on you. All they found was empty air.

The lights were back on almost as soon as they were off. That was basically confirmation that he was fucking with you. There was a light switch to the kitchen in the living room. He had to be in here, smiling and holding in a laugh. 

In your blind search for the man, you'd spun your back to the entrance to the living room. Turning back around you found something that wasn't there before. Scribbles from Toby adorned the fridge, held up by plastic letters, but something had been added. It didn't need to be held up by a magnet, it was a yellow sticky note. You approached it, trying to get a better look at the itty-bitty symbol in the center of the paper. 

Standing before the fridge you saw a little circle drawn in blue ink. Two long lines side by side, a semi-circle beneath them. A smiley face.

You clicked your tongue, stepping back from the fridge, "Oh haha, Brian."

You swung your body toward the living room entrance, you continued as you walked toward it. You were going to smack him upside the head for that shit, not really but you might 'accidentally' step on his toes. 

"Very funny." You entered the dark living room, occupied by Goober. Only partially illuminated by the kitchen and hallway lights. You weren't going to wake up your fur baby for this. "Alright dickhead." You lowered your voice as to not wake the dog. You couldn't see shit but you were assuming that he was somewhere in the room, "Welcome home but literally?" You still scanned the room for his silhouette only to find nothing, "Fuck off." It wasn't spat out hatefully it was more mildly fearful annoyance. Your heart still thundering in your chest at the idea of a man lurking in the shadows, watching you but not making himself known. That man was most definitely Brian though, your hot and cool boyfriend that you loved.

The rush of fear followed by adrenaline was nice knowing that you were safe. He was scaring you for shits and giggles, not meaning any real harm. You were getting a high that'd last you a few minutes, another pleasant sensation to tally onto the nights already good vibe. Though the high was brought on by him being a dick, so you weren't going to let it show.

You weren't going to waste any more time looking for him, "Whatever, bee boy." You huffed as you turned toward the hall, his bedroom door at the very end of it, "If you wanna like," You started walking, "See some cool shit I found Youtube, lemme know." You knew he probably wasn't going to play at this all night, he was a cuddle monster and would probably get some amusement out of finding out what some British dude shoved up his ass.

You'd left the door ajar but not completely open and the light on. As you approached you couldn't catch a glimpse of him or his shadow. 

The hallway light shut off. The thing is, there are multiple light switches to the hallway, one at its entrance, one in Tim's room, and one in Brian's room. There had been one in Toby's room but it's no longer functional. Tim had said something along the lines of Toby punching and destroying it during a bad episode. So that's why there was a spot on his wall right by the door. A circular area covered up by a thick piece of wood. 

Turning around and swinging your hands to try to punch the unseen man, you were met with nothing but air and darkness.

"Really asshole?" You hissed into the hallway, facing the darkened living room. No response but the light was flicked back on, you turned back around to face the door.

There was something up with the door though, as you approached you saw another sticky note. Written in neat lettering was a message, ' _Behind You.'_

You spun around with a gasp, expecting to see his silhouette at the entrance of the hall but instead you were greeted with nothing. " _Brian! If you don't quit it, I'm going to kick your ass."_ You growled into the empty air, back turned to the door, yelling into the hallway. Not properly processing things as you rattled off hollow threats while your heart jittered in your rib cage, " _Are you a child? Huh? Are you an actual man baby?"_ You lightly insulted with a nervous but giddy laugh, this was fun but also scary as shit. 

No response from the darkness.

You realized your mistake with a gasp, he wasn't behind you in the hall. The note was on the door, he was behind you in the doorway.

You were going to turn around, call Brian out for his shit, if you didn't get grabbed that is. The second you let out the gasp of realization, something flew over your eyes, covering your view of the dimly let hallway. An arm quickly wrapping around your waist and yanking you easily back and off your feet.

You let out a screech, legs kicking back and hands grabbing the limb around your waist while you were further hoisted up and back. 

Feet hanging uselessly in the air, back pressed up against his chest, and what you assumed to be a gloved hand was covering your eyes. You ceased your knee-jerk reaction of a struggle, heart pounding while letting out a shuddering breath of relief. You were fine. It was just Brian.

Sweet, horrifying, caring, stalkerish, Brian.

"That wasn't fucking funny." You said, laughing hysterically in relief at your safety.

It was like being on a rollercoaster that would drop you hundreds of feet. The initial drop triggering a terrified rush of adrenaline but your mind quickly caught up to you, telling you that you were safe. In a dangerous situation if the ride fucked up, broke, and you actually fell to your death but that didn't happen too often. Yet you didn't feel like you were in genuine danger, scared for sure but safe, filled with delight at the fact.

You were also happy to see him after him being away for so many days. Well, you could only see the glove that covered your eyes, feeling the warm leather against your skin.

The back of your head wasn't supported by his torso so you were assuming he was holding you quite a ways off the ground. You didn't hear his breathe but you felt the warm breaths on the back of your neck. Your hair was standing on end at the feeling, tensing even more in his grip.

A concentrated stream of air was blown behind your ear. You took in a hissing breath, it was just a bit intimidating in your current mental state of being terrified and overjoyed at being safe. He finally spoke, voice partially modified but you could hear the undertone of his real voice, **"Are you scared?"**

Words caught in your throat, you let out a sound of jumbled syllables. Brian let out a breathy laugh behind you, chest lowly rumbling, a chill ran down your spine but you didn't hate it. However, the dickhead scared the shit out of you, you weren't going to tell him what he wanted to hear.

"No. Fuck you, put me down." You did your best to keep the quake of fear out of your voice, failing miserably and sounding like a bullied kid trying to ask their bullies politely to stop.

As much as a dick bag as Brian was, he listened to you. Setting you gently down on the floor, your bare feet gracing the cold floor. His arm mostly left your torso except for his hand sliding to your waist, lightly gripping your clothed self. He kept his hand lingering on your face a moment longer, you were just about ready to hit him in the balls when he spun you around. 

His hand removed itself from your eyes as he turned you. Once you were facing him, your bare feet brushing against his steel toed boots. You took an unconscious step back as you were met with his face, your back hitting the closed door softly. Mask pushed up to the tip of his nose, just barely poking out under the black fabric. Though he'd released your side in your quick spin, he quickly returned his hand to where it once was. Grip firmer, lightly pulling your back toward him. Other hand coming under your chin, grabbing you gently with his thumb and index, unnecessarily tilting your head up in an act of control, dominance. 

On the inside, you were feeling a very certain type of way about the situation. The thundering of your heart, the high of adrenaline, behind gently manhandled by your boyfriend. You were still mad though, his victorious smirk making it hard for you to be too mad. You huffed, heat rising in your cheeks when you really wished it wouldn't, because it made the edges of his mouth twitch even more upward. It was hot but you were so fucking mad.

"Do you really like," Your voice steadied a bit to your relief, "Wanna fucking," You tried your best to add a stronger edge to your voice, weakly annoyed and challenging him, "Go Brian? I'll kick your ass." You lightly pounded a closed fist onto his solid chest, earning a huff of a laugh from him. "I'm serious I'll do it."

After his initial breathy laugh, he gave you no more of a reaction, he just kept smiling, wrinkled dotted eyes boring into you. The two of you stared at one another while your hollow threat hung limply in the air. This was infuriating, "Are you just gonna keep staring or what?"

His smirk formed into a lopsided devilish grin, cocky with a cute tooth gap. 

Holy shit, how is he so hot?

Heat continued to rise unwillingly to your face, it wasn't your fault you found being mildly afraid so attractive. It was just how things turned out to be. Your resolve was weakening but you weren't down and out just yet.

"Okay," You huffed, "I'm fucking hungry, I'm gonna go make some food. You can stay here I guess." You didn't want the interaction to stop, you just wanted a way to not be so enraptured by him. It was scary how into it you were, you wanted a bit of a break to cool down, collect your thoughts, and get a bit more of a hold on the situation. The spiteful anger in your system wanting to not completely submit. You just needed a few minutes to figure yourself out.

You made an attempt to turn your head and body to walk away but Brian's grip tightened. Sending a jolt of mild pain through your side, thumb digging into your chin, holding you firm in place. 

**"You're not going anywhere."** Brian drawled, the robotic voice almost hiding his, husky and haughty.

Your breath caught in your throat at the voice changer, the dotted eyes. He was genuinely horrifying but it was Brian, the man you loved but it was also Hoodie, the man you feared. You let out a mumbling mess of syllables. Trying to put together coherent thoughts, not being able to throw together a weak insult. 

He tilted his head, chuckling, **"Is something wrong?"**

You let out an, _"Uhhhhh."_

 **"You're scared, aren't you?"** His smile grew with every word, smug and knowing.

You had the will of a motherfucker, more spiteful than the devil, but that smile, his words, the fear and delight, it had you weak at the knees. This wasn't submitting to The Operator, this was getting frisky with your boyfriend. You swallowed a thick lump in your throat, mouth ajar, and eyes wide. You let the confession pass through your lips, the desire to be smooched overtaking your spite, "Yeah." 

The second the one word reply was heard, his hand shifted. From tightly holding your chin to being wrapped around your neck. Not constricting and closing off your windpipe like the first time it had but his fingers pressed into the sides of your neck, a threat. On instinct, your hands flew up to his wrist as you jumped a gasp escaping your lips. He loosened his grip about to pull his hand away but you tugged his wrist forward, telling him to not to stop.

**"Uh-huh."** He snickered, his real voice mixed with the voice changer, low, gravely, and possessive. His fingers pressing back into your skin. It gave you chills, the good kind. You let out a shuddering breath, you could feel your pulse racing beneath your fingers. He knew and and you knew it, you were terrified by the action, but you didn't pull away or ask him to stop. Instead you leaned into the touch, putty in his hands. 

Though you were into it, you still had a sharp tongue, "Okay, rude." You laughed, not being able to come up with an insult, being distracted by the hand on your throat. His amusement was clear, still laughing at you, that sparked a bit of playful spite.

You rolled up his sleeve to expose his wrist, he tilted his head at you. He may have had you by the neck, you smugly grinned at him, wrapping your hands around his thick wrist, softly digging your nails into his skin. A callback that night in your apartment but this time you weren't trying to escape.

Like Tim the day before, you were going to push his buttons to see what would happen, "Hey remember that one time I threw you off a pickup truck?"

**NSFW Begins**

His hand was off your neck in an instant, instead grabbing your other side and throwing you backward. You let out a small scream as your back collided with his mattress, your body bouncing a few times from the mild force. Confusion wracked your brain, from standing to laying on your back in the middle of his bed. 

You were going to push yourself up and ask him, 'what the fuck?' You didn't get a chance to do so because he was on top of you in an instant. Throwing off his mask at some point so you could finally see his face, a predatory gleam in his eyes, a lopsided smirk, and a soft blush. His hair was an absolute mess from wearing the thing, thrown every which way, tousled in a cute way.

He'd taken advantage of the way you fell, legs spread. Positioning himself between them, pulling you closer by putting his hands on your hips and dragging you roughly towards him. 

Being home alone all day and just generally comfortable in your environment you hadn't worn much. You'd snatched one of Brian's t-shirts, it acting as a baggy dress, black with white text ' _OF COURSE I CUM FAST',_ read the top before an image of a bass, ' _I GOT FISH TO CATCH.'_ The shirt called to you, you had to wear it.

You were comfortable but you wouldn't go commando like a fucking animal, you had underwear on but not a bra. Being inside and never going out made wearing one pretty useless. The action of him dragging you forward while you were laying down had his shirt riding up your thighs. Exposing the lack of shorts to him.

He made no show of hiding that his eyes were drawn to that fact, a huffy laugh at the easy access. The rough fabric of his jeans pressed into you and he shifted forward, sending a dull pleasure through your body. He seemed to be enjoying himself, having you basically at his mercy had resulted in something pressing into you. 

He snatched your wrists with one of his hands, glove-less, the callouses of his hand roughly brushing against your skin, throwing them above your head, pressing them into the mattress while his free hand returned to your throat. Hovering over you, putting more pressure on your throat and further pinning you to bed, his face inches from yours. His breath ghosted over the skin of your face as he spoke.

"You don't have any openings now, do you? You're all mine." He was referring to the pickup truck that you brought up, you brought this upon yourself and you did not mind a single bit. That night he'd gotten cocky, underestimating your grit but now he knew you. Now he didn't give you any. Hands firmly held together, throat in his fingers, legs spread so you couldn't take any cheap shots at his balls.

Floored and red faced, a growing heat centered where his jeans pressed into your panties. You were painfully aware of the growing stiffness further pressing into you. You may be flustered, but you're a bastard through and though, "Gimmie one then." You reveled in the position that you were in, him knowing how much power he had over you, the absolute dominance. You still liked pushing buttons though. 

He let out a short laugh, shaking his head and bringing his face closer. You were thinking he was coming in for a kiss but instead he veered his head to the side. His stubbly jaw grazing by your sensitive skin.

 _"Nobody is coming to save you."_ He lowly purred into your ear, squeezing your neck as he spoke. If you heard those words about a month ago you would have pissed yourself. Now though, him on top of you, high on adrenaline and he way his body pressed into yours, it sent a chill down your spine, one that you fucking loved.

Without thinking you blabbered, "No shit, nobody's home Brian."

He let out a genuine laugh, bright and bubbly, a little out of character for what was going on. You found yourself laughing with him, this was nice. 

Stopping suddenly he drawled into your ear, impatience evident, "Exactly." You had a feeling he wasn't happy about the twink calling him on a multi-day job right before things got good. You wondered if he planned this, if he'd been thinking of you pressed up against him like this. 

You'd been a little busy with the others to think on it too much but when you did, there was a spark of excitement. You didn't think his return would get this good though.

Brian had waited long enough, he shifted away from your ear. Not needing to make any comments before he pressed his lips into yours. No slow build up required, the both of you were on the same page. Mouth partings together, pressing into one another, hot breaths and nerves firing.

Lightly squeezing your neck he took full advantage of you gasping and slid his tongue into your mouth. Your brain was getting an overdose of dopamine, his tongue grinding into yours. You being you, you did your best to surprise him, get a reaction, tongues still going at it, you pressed your hips up into his jeans with a moan. The dragging grind had you feeling the pleasantly warm wetness in your panties. You could feel the growing tent in his jeans, your body craved him. 

He growled pulling away, that was not the reaction you were hoping for. Whining as he further pulled back, releasing your throat and hands. A soft laugh came from him at you desperation for more. You made no moves to 'fight' him. Watching him with hungry eyes, you knew he wouldn't disappoint but if he was going to be a tease, you'd fucking kill him. 

Standing on his knees, your legs framing his hips, feet hooked loosely around his legs, he towered over you.

"Get back over here." You jokingly commanded, arms free so you tried to push yourself up to his level.

A hand pressed into the middle of your chest and pushed you back down into the mattress a sharp gasp.

With way too much enjoyment, practically purring, he tutted, "Be patient." His smirk was driving you fucking crazy, you were going to try to pull him down and kiss him once more but he suggested something else. He lifted his hand, you stayed, watching his hand lightly ghost over the fabric of his stolen shirt. Fingers tracing down your center, a clear path to the growing heat. He stopped, you huffed but you ceased your playful pout when his hands gently grabbed the hem of your shirt. "Is this okay?" He asked genuinely, making sure he had your consent to continue. 

_"Yes."_ You didn't need to think about it, you wanted this so fucking badly. You couldn't take your eyes off his hands, big, strong, and about to expose your body to him. 

If his smirk drove you crazy, then his rumbling laugh drove you mad. Brian had waited days for this, he was being a tease but you could tell there was a bit of desperation for things to get even better. He pulled your shirt, exposing your stomach, leaning over you as he continued to pull the shirt away. You lifted your arms with a laugh, feeling a little silly but still having a great time. He slowed once the shirt no longer hid your breasts, not hiding his ogling.

"You like somethin' ya see or what?" You giggled, he looked genuinely amazed, cutely blushing.

You brought your hands down and pulled the shirt the rest of the way off as Brian was a little preoccupied. "You're pretty." For all the incredibly dominating shit he'd done, scaring you just to get you going, you didn't really expect to be softly complimented. 

You raised your brows and sweetly smiled, "How about you take your shirt off, I bet you're pretty too." You mimicked his earlier actions, having to curl yourself up a bit to grab at the bottom of his hoodie. Excited at the idea of seeing him shirtless for the first time. You'd never gotten a single peak at the man without a shirt on but you knew the wait would be worth it.

Snapping out of his soft gaze, he was right back on his bullshit, lopsidedly grinning at your request. Obviously wanting to speed things up a bit. Sure, you wanted him to touch you right this second but you've waited weeks to see the motherfucker bare chested. You wanted to see it now.

He brought his hands to the bottom of his hoodie, your eyes glued to them, so ready. He started out slowly, pulling the fabric up, exposing his lower stomach and soft v-line littered with fine hair. _Nice._

Brian still kept peeling his jacket up, way too fucking slow. You curled yourself up more and pushed his hoodie up, " _Lemme see! Lemme see!"_ You chanted, Brain paused to laugh, sweet and warm. You weren't looking at his cute smile though, you were checking out his abs. " _Ooh! Mister handsome over here is fucking shredded!"_ You cooed as he threw the rest of his hoodie off. He was though it didn't look like he was cracked out on steroids, he had some clear definition there. A soft six pack and pecs that were like two big muscular titties: fucking phenomenal. 

There was something else you wanted to see. First you asked him, "Can I cop a feel?" Waggling your brows while stupidly laughing, fingers flexing in a grabbing motion.

"Feel free to." He retorted your hands flew forward while you ogled at him. He wasn't too hairy but you could feel soft fine hair on his chest as you ran your hands over the curve of his pecks and to his abs. You could feel his body jump at the sensation, and you heard him take a shuddering breath: very fucking nice. Your hands kept traveling down, gently falling into every little dip and up every curve of his skin. The lower your hands traveled, the faster you went, wanting to get to the main event already. You grabbed the top of his pants while looking him dead in the eye, hooking your fingers in his belt loops and tugging him flush against you.

As he let out another cute giggle, you spoke, "Also? Take your fucking pants off." It came out more as a command that was growled desperately. The growing stiffness that pressed so hardly into your skin had you in a tizzy. 

Smirking, he pulled his hips away from yours, you whined as he spoke, "Take them off yourself."

You surged forward with the request, not even playing coy about how badly you wanted him out of his jeans. You also wanted to see his ass, you had a feeling the man had _cake_.

" _Don't mind if I do."_ You snickered, unbuttoning his pants with a vigor you didn't know you had. When you got to his zipper, you were faced with the large bulge in the fabric of his jeans. You stared a moment, tempted to straight up grope his dick. You wouldn't though without permission. As eager as you were to have him back on top of you, you wanted to return some of his teasing. Every tooth of the zipper was slowly pulled open while you looked him dead in the eye. Red faced and looking smug, he looked happy for sure but you had a feeling he wanted to be doing the teasing. The huffing breath he let out of his nose told you as a minute has passed and you still weren't done.

"Is something wrong?" You lowly mimicked his earlier statement.

He raised his brows at your challenge, a hand coming atop yours and forcing the zipper the rest of the way down. He shifted yanking his pants down, clearly done with your shit. He must have kicked his shoes off before jumping onto the bed. Wrestling with the denim for an almost pitiful amount of time, he threw the garments across the room as you cackled at him. He shifted his attention back to you, only clothed by his boxers which were doing you a favor by not hiding his length at all. The thin fabric showing off the hard outline of him, you were taking _all_ of him in.

He caught you red handed, mimicking you, "You like something you see or what?" You snorted, looking back up to him with a mix of lust and love. 

"Asshole." You lightly insulted, not meaning it in the slightest.

Brian couldn't stop smiling, looking to you with adoration. You pushed your head up with a hum, innocently asking for a smooch. He was just so fucking cute.

He happily obliged, you lips met in a tender kiss, smiling against one another. Hands came to your shoulders as your lips moved in tandem, pushing you back into the mattress, returning to your previous position. Once you softly lay under him, he traced his fingertips over your skin, sliding his hands down. Breaking the kiss, resting his forehead against yours as he lowly requested, "Can I touch you?"

One hand had been making a slow beeline for your breast the other had traveled down your stomach. Before he touched you, he asked for your permission. You'd expect nothing less from a grown ass adult but you were still grateful. You whispered back, "Go right ahead, bee boy." Still feeling a little soft and silly from the earlier encounter. 

He pressed his lips to yours once more, taking the lead while his hands continued their advance. His light touches giving you pleasant goosebumps. His hand came to softly cup your breast, thumb lazily ghosting over the sensitive skin of your nipple, he remembered how much you liked it last time, replicating it to get a reaction out of you. You moaned into his open mouth, grinding yourself into him while slipping him the tongue. He throatily laughed at you, the vibrations sending sparks through your lips as he began to roll this thumb over your nipple in slow circles.

While he worked away at you, you kept with your earlier desire to cop a feel. You were going to get your fucking fill and then some. You mimicked his light touches, teasingly dragging your fingers over his skin. You knew you were doing something right when he growled, buckling into you, sending your sensitive nerves into a tizzy.

That had you gasping, but what really got you was when two finger tips ghosted over your panties. Sliding down the curve of your body and lightly touching the sensitive heat. You moaned, grinding your hips into him as his fingers traveled down, feeling the warm wetness. His chuckle at your clear arousal had you grinding into his fingers, wanting some fiction, wanting some more stimulation. He pulled his lips away from yours, fingers sliding back up to pay attention to something else. 

Keeping eye contact, his shifted his head to your unattended breast while his fingers idly traced over your clothed clit. Pressing a soft kiss onto your nipple, raising his brows in mock surprise when your breath hitched and your back arched into his mouth. His fingers were still working away at your wet panties, it felt great but he was just a bit off, you mustered a quaking whisper, "A little to the left."

Opening his mouth while his other hand lightly pinched and rolled your sensitive skin, he lightly lapped at the tip of your nipple while adjusting his hand. Two fingers applying light pressure to the clothed and swollen mass of nerves as well as all the other shit going on, had you rutting your hips into his hand, your fingers clutching to his chest and crying out, " _Brian."_

At the wanton cry of his name, he thrust his clothed hard-on into your wet heat all while gently rubbing circles around your clit. Opening his mouth, still looking at you, this time with a more predatory glint in his eyes, he teasingly ran the tip of his tongue over your sensitive flesh. You jerked into him, gasping and grabbing the back of his head, tangling your fingers in his short locks and tugging lightly. He hummed, sending intoxicating vibrations through your flesh, lightly nipping you and applying more pressure to your needy clit. 

You felt yourself throb, feeling agonizingly empty when his hardness was so close.

"Brian." You called for him, you already had his complete attention but you needed something else, "Can you-" You trailed off, not knowing how to word it exactly, getting a bit flustered at your own request, silly in your current position.

Brian took full advantage of your lack for words, releasing your breast from his mouth and slowing down his fingers. The rolling circles were already slow but this was agonizing, your body shaking from the lack of stimulation. He brought his face close to yours, hot breath on your face, your hands still in his hair. " _Tell me what you want."_

His tone was a low drawl, full of wanting. You grinded yourself into his fingers, completely set off by his voice, sending his a wave of pleasure though your needy body.

You pushed the words passed your buzzing lips while he chuckled at you, "Touch me but like," You had the fight to urge to look away, your name wasn't Timothy Wright, "Without any clothes?" You worded it awkwardly not really knowing how to word it to make it sound 'sexy'. 

He smiled at you, he loved you for you and not how sexily you could ask him to touch you. "I'd love to." He shifted back, you moved with him as he remove his hands from your now uncomfortably wet underwear. Once more, a hand lightly pressed you back into the bed.

" _Wait."_ That was not a request, it was a command. One that you obeyed with a shiver. 

His hands came to either side of his boxers, you waited with baited breath, painfully aware of how empty you were, your body seeming to throb. Tugging his boxers down, you got a glimpse of a patch of light hair. Not too long but not clean shaven either. Did this motherfucker maintain his dick hair? If so, respect. 

Further removing the article of clothing, you were teased with every inch until you barked, " _Fucks sake Brian! Hurry up,"_ At your command he stopped, not liking your tone, " _Please."_ That got him moving once more with a chuckle. 

He pulled the clothing the rest of the way down. Fucking finally. His dick was proportional to his body, big, thick as fuck. You rose your brows smiling hungrily, you could take that.

Instead of removing your panties he said, "Excuse me." Politely excusing himself from the bed to shift over to his night stand and open a drawer. Oh right, condoms. Pregnancy and STI's were a real bad idea in your situation.

It didn't take him very long, how hard could putting on a condom be? 

Back on the bed once more, boxers thrown to the floor. He was back between your legs before you knew it. One hand came to your right hip crease, tucking his thumb under the fabric of your panties. Before he stripped you though, one hand came to his length, lazily gliding his hand from its base to its tip as he looked you up and down. You leaned forward, intrigued and empty.

He smiled at your enthusiasm, biting his lip as he let out a soft moan, repeating the motion again. You unintentionally twitched under him, impatient.

Chuckling, he finally pulled your panties up and away from your heat. You felt small under his gaze, delightfully predatory and possessive. His eyes were on your the swollen and criminally under-stimulated pussy. Teasing seemed to be his shit but he was growing impatient quickly pulling your underwear from your legs, you shifting to make the process faster. He threw them away, you both didn't care to look where they fell.

The two of you moved back into place, instead of thin clothing separating you, the two of you were exposed to one another. Ready to fucking roll. 

You were expecting him to be on the same page as you, just stick it in and go bonkers but surprisingly, for a man, he knew a lot about foreplay. Instead of going with your stupidly needy idea of immediate penetration, he brought a hand to your warmth, the other to your breast. You grabbed onto the wrist of the hand that gently rolled your nipple between its knuckles. He slid a single finger down your slick, only lightly pressing into you once he was at your entrance. 

Sighing and rolling your hips into his one finger, he moved so the action wouldn't have the finger deeper inside you. Teasing bastard.

You completely fucking forgot about the finger of the woman in your mouth. Too enraptured by Brian and his touch, the way that every little movement had your sensitive nerves firing off in all the right ways.

He cutely tilted his head, you met his eye, his voice low and devious, "What do you want?"

You weren't going to play coy or insult him, you needed him so badly, the words coming out with a needy trill, "Your fingers inside me." You hoped he'd pick up in the plural use of fingers, you wanted a little more than one digit.

You were rewarded, feeling a second finger lightly sink into your entrance but not delving into you just yet. He surged forward, lowering himself into you. As your lips met he began to easily slide his fingers into you. You'd already slid your tongue into his mouth, loudly moaning into him as his fingers continued to sink into you. Grinding tongues against one another while he throatily chuckled, burying his thick fingers up to his knuckles. 

Your walls throbbed around his fingers, happily adjusting to his intrusion. Lips pulling away with a soft smack as he slowly dragged his fingers back out then in to your needy heat, you gasped out, " _Brian."_ You threw your hands to the back of his head once more, pushing him into you, you needed him.

At the moan he pulled his fingers halfway out of you only to slam them into you, sending a harsh wave of pleasure over your body, a wanton curse leaving your lips, "Fuck!"

That only spurred him on, trailing kisses down your neck while pumping his fingers in and out of you, curling inside you hungrily. Lazily grinding his hips into you, his erect length dragging against your body. You may have been full of his fingers, but the weight that lay near your hip crease was so distracting, you wanted that _so_ much more than his fingers.

"Brian?" You let out his name in a gasp, his fingers curling inside of you. Beckoning and having you buck and moan, nerves buzzing. Snickering out how easily he could pull so many sounds from you, he hummed while pressing kisses to your neck. This man was playing you like a damn fiddle, you were going to try to surprise him and get what you really wanted, "Are you gonna fuck me or what?"

He perked up, quickly rising from your neck and towering over you. Red faced with a smug smile, slowly sliding his fingers out of you while he spoke, "How about you ask me a little nicer, (Y/n)?"

This cocky motherfucker. The most of a reaction out of him that you got was him moving, teasing you once more. You were going to lose it. With his fingers completely out of you, you felt even more empty than you had before. Leaving you needy as fuck but so over his stupidly hot attitude.

"You heard me Brian." You haughtily snapped, crossing your arms over your breasts, blocking his view.

He only snorted at this, putting a hand to his ear and tilting his head, "What was that? Couldn't hear you."

Giggling and throwing your head back, you spoke, "I'm not begging."

"Begging you say." He cooed, suddenly very interested in the word, like he wasn't thinking of asking you to do so earlier, "You should do that," He shifted as he spoke, the thick hardness of his length teasingly pressing into your entrance, as he growled, "Beg." Now you'd done it, though you didn't think that was a bad thing in the slightest.

"No." As desperate as you were, you knew he this too. Just barley being inside you had him just barley suppressing a twitch and a grunt.

"(Y/n)." His voice was playful with a sudden stern edge, impatient. Despite it wearing thin, he was still a bastard, "Come on honey," He cooed the sickly sweet pet name, "I know you want it."

Yeah, you did. Fuck being coy, you wanted this. " _Please_."

He leaned forward, sliding slowly into you. Your entrance deliciously stretching around him, having you groan while he let out a throaty chuckle. He hardly pushed inside of you. Leaving you whining as he pressed his chest into yours, growling into your ear, _"Again better."_

The hot breath, his skin on yours, him inside you, it was a no brainer. Even if he was totally milking the moment for all it was worth. Bringing your hands around him, fingers digging into his back, you begged, " _Brian, please fuck me."_

 _"Good girl."_ He purred into your ear, shifting, his face inches from yours. He didn't need to tell you to do anything, you slammed your lips into his as he pushed his dick into your needy slick. Lips moving in a desperate tandem as he let out a low moan, which you reveled in as he filled you deliciously. Finally fully inside you, your insides twitched around him. Feeling filled and fucking great.

The two of you stayed like that for some time, kissing and letting you adjust. Then your resolve crumbled as you ground your tongues together, rolling you hips away and slowly back into him. He pulled his lips from yours, the soft flesh buzzing in delight as he smirked at you, needy for friction. 

He slid his hips back teasingly slowly, pulling out too much for what you liked, you whined at the emptiness.

"You're cute." He chuckled as he slid back inside of you, moaning as your walls throbbed around him. The sound from him drove you to surge forward, planting wet kisses on his neck, he groaned at the sensation, his skin softly vibrating. 

It was slow, not agonizingly so, but normal for a couple having sex for the first time. That was until you started sucking on his neck, lightly nipping at his thrumming pulse.

He snapped his hips into yours with a growl, " _(Y/n)."_ His sudden harsh movement had you going ape shit, you wanted more, you wanted to drive him just as crazy as he was driving you. You bit down harder, forgetting your flesh eating woes, this was about him, the man who ruined your life, the man you loved, Brian. 

At the pain you inflicted, he did the action once more, snapping his length into you with a moan. All that did was spur your on to dig your fingernails into his back and slowly scratching at his flesh. Further encouraging him to rail you, which he did. Holy shit, did he rail you.

Kissing, biting, clawing at his back, moaning his name, no matter what you did it just spurred him to slam into you, hard and quick trusts that left you incoherently babbling into his skin.

In the heat of the moment, he darkly drawled out words that had you rolling your hips into him needily, "Do you have any fucking idea how cute it is when you act so tough?" You knew that he didn't mean all the time, no one on the planet is that fucking horny. He meant when you acted like you weren't at least a little excited and alarmed at him in uniform, you being safe but your past experiences saying otherwise. He didn't actually mean that he enjoyed when you were actually scared. "It drives me fucking crazy. I've been thinking about fucking you like this for _days_." His possessive growl had you clawing further at his back a whimpering moan leaving your lips.

He tilted his head, slamming his dick into your throbbing pussy, "Does that feel good?" He cooed looking at you with half lidded eyes, knowing damn well what you were going to say. He just liked watching you squirm and try to form coherent sentences. "Hm?"

_"Yes,"_ You panted out, trying to move your hips to meet his pace, skin slapping together while your nerves screamed in delight, " _Brian you feel so fucking good."_

Those words had him slamming his lips into yours, the both of you breathing raggedly, kisses growing sloppier as you were reaching your end. When he removed his mouth from yours, you were free to let out a cry, clutching his back as he mercilessly pounded into you but you wanted more. You knew he could give it to you if you just begged. You wanted to walk weird for a week. " _Harder, please."_

Chuckling a hand sliding up to your throat, wrapping his fingers around your neck but not squeezing as he continued. "You're getting close, huh?" It was obvious the both of you were, desperate grabbing, panting, everything else fell away but each other. 

"Yes. Please fuck me harder!" You cried, thinking that you were going to start tearing up any second now, the sensation was unbearable. Gasping as you felt his teeth on your neck.

As per your request, he picked up the pace. Hardly even pulling out of you anymore, rutting desperately into you. The both of you grunting and groaning. 

Toes curling and back arching you hissed out, _"Brian, I think I'm going to cum!"_ You couldn't stop from grinding desperately into him, feeling his length move so much inside you had you about to lose it.

" _Me too."_ He gasped into your neck, the both of you simultaneous deciding you should make out. Lips sloppily sliding together as you drove each other off the edge.

A crying moan left your lips as you felt the first throb of your orgasm. Doing your best to move faster though, it wasn't by much. You clutched his back and incoherently babbled out his name as you kissed, groaning and humming sharply into him. Your pussy twitching and convulsing around him, tears picking at the edges of your eyes. 

" _Fuck, (Y/n)!"_ Brian moaned, slamming into you, feeling your walls throb and tighten around him. The first few seconds of your orgasm he continued to slam into you, letting you ride it out while he chased his own high. His dick hotly throbbing inside of you while he let out a loud moan, cumming and shuddering in your arms.

Pants and soft groans filled the air as you both came down from your respective orgasms, your hands running up and down his back. 

Above you he was red faced and covered in sweat, you were the same, you probably smelled so fucking bad. He'd closed his eyes in the moment, pretty common, it didn't bother you, he was absolutely stunning either way. When he opened them, soft hazel eyes filled with soft adoration made your heart skip a beat. "Are you okay?"

Holy shit this man!

"Yeah," You let out a shuddering breath as he slowly pulled out of you, "Are you? You went a little bonkers there, bumblebee." You chuckled, empty and okay with in, running a hand through his hair sweetly. You could tell you'd be hurting in the morning. He plopped beside you with a soft, throwing an arm over your shoulder.

You turned and threw a leg lazily around his waist, resting your head on his chest. His heard thudding and chest heaving. "I'm great," He gave you a cute smile, "Thanks to you, cutie."

You just had your guts completely rearranged by this man, but he was still so sweet. You grinned, his cheeks were flushed, hair thrown every which way from you tugging on it, his neck and chest littered with slowly forming hickies. He was usually so put together, as much as he could be but he was a mess. You were kinda into it. "No, thank _you_."

**NSFW Ends / References to NSFW after the fact**

He wasted no time to talk, the both of you completely mellowed out in the after glow. "I'm so glad you're not actually afraid of me." He began, open and honest, his eyes softly dragging over your face, "I know we all did a lot of horrible things to you." 

Sex was an act of trust, respect, and sometimes love. This instance it was love. The both of you cared for one another. Sex without love was cool and all, but the both of you loved another. Making it even better. 

You could be offended, scream at him from depriving you from an apology for so long, only giving you one after sex. Get mad at him using fear against you but he'd made it obvious that he knew to some fucked up extent, it turned you on. A rollercoaster, no danger but plenty of thrill. The fact that you were traumatized just made it a bit of an awkward topic to talk about after.

Having sex, being turned on while he was in the same clothes he scared the shit out of you in, it was trust. You trusting him not to take it too far, not to hurt you when you knew he could. On him it was opening up, being more of a reserved person and slowly opening up and showing emotion to you. It was an act of lust for sure, but it was more an act of trust on both ends. 

Brian's heart had been fucked by Alex. Hurt and heartbroken, betrayed. Romance probably wasn't on the forefront of his mind, especially while being a murderous meat puppet. He'd been badly burned but he opened up to you, romantically and sexually. That didn't make his actions any better, but him being a comrade in your shitty arms, looking out for you even when he still hated you, it helped make up for his sins. Though they still lingered, an unspoken rule was no knocking, kinda why Tim didn't do so, but he could fucking say something. 

"I know I hurt you really badly multiple times," He wasn't cheekily smiling over the fact he was frowning, upset, "But I'm glad that things played out the way that they did. It led to us being here, to you trusting me after even everything I've done. I regret that my actions hurt you so and that I was so angry at you for so long, but I don't completely regret them or we might not be here. I just-" His other hand came to your face, gently tilting it toward him, as his voice dropped sweetly, "I just don't understand why you trust me so much." Trust him enough to be in the same room alone, to kiss him, hug him, have sex with him. 

Blinking up at him, not expecting such a thoroughly worded apology so soon after Toby's. He was too good with words leaving you feeling like whatever you had to say wouldn't be eloquent enough.

"At first I didn't obviously," You didn't force yourself to laugh, "But I changed my mind pretty quick ya'know. Was scared of you but you showed yourself to be better than I thought you were. You're always looking out for the others over yourself, I always thought that was so admirable, ya'know? You work so hard so the others don't have to endure more shit. I'm sure the lot of you have been through some shit and you all trust each other, so why shouldn't I?" Spitefully stupid as always but you weren't done. "You did horrible shit, but you could still be doing horrible shit. You're allowed to hurt me but you don't. You hurt me in the past and I think a part of me will always resent you for that but that's just a part of me, not the whole me."

Brian blinked as you finished, grabbing his sweaty hand. Shifting, placing a soft kiss on the back of his hand. Sweet, gentle, and tender with the man who could break your legs if he wanted to. He didn't need to add more to his apology and you didn't need to add more onto your statement. You both did add something else to the conversation though. In a perfect unintentional unison you both spoke, " _I love you."_

The two of you paused a moment before bursting out into a fit of sweet laughter. Genuine smiles and hearts fluttering. As the laughter died down, you didn't need a 're-do' to say it individually, the moment was perfect.

Smiling lovingly at you, he spoke, "Wanna shower? We smell awful."

You snickered, not bashful at the idea of showering with him at all, "We do."


	45. 44 - Have Some Pride

**Heavy NSFW Mentions but nothing actually happens**

After your shower, which may have got a little more steamy than you'd thought it would, literally. The mirror was completely fogged over when the two of you got out, also you went for round two, which completely defeated the purpose of the shower in the first place. 

The two of you then tried your hardest to watch a movie, a romcom as per Brian's tastes. He wasn't a big horror guy, ironically. He preferred more lighthearted kinda stuff, even if it had rocky writing. The two of you were wrapped up under his covers, cuddling, while Goober had woken up and came into the room. He laid himself at the foot of the bed while your eyelids grew heavy, falling asleep to some idiots in love on screen. Sleeping on the idiot that you loved. Except he wasn't an idiot in the slightest and could probably run intellectual circles around you.

You didn't tell him about you regaining some of your memory, your small victory over the twink that you still hadn't been punished for yet. Maybe it wasn't that all knowing or it didn't fucking care. Still, you had to wake up and force yourself to not remember the finger in your teeth, the bone splinters in your gums. It was disturbing, the kind of shit you could do when cracked out on feral energy supplied to you by a skinny, literally white man.

Being domestic as you could was nice though. Walking was a little awkward, the way that he rammed into you over and over had you bruised and achy long after the two of you were done. You would have taken up his offer to eat you out as a way to 'make it up to you', but that morning Toby and Tim had come home and you didn't trust yourself to be that quiet. The boys needed some rest and you weren't taking your chances on waking them up or embarrassing yourself further.

One offer you didn't decline was making breakfast together. Him telling you what to do while you hobbled around the kitchen. Whenever you walked past him to grab this or that, he would lightly slap your ass much to your flustered chagrin. With every hissed out, " _Brian, I swear."_ He only got more smiley. 

"Okay, what the fuck?" You were leaning on the counter, one hand lazily mopping up some spilled batter with a napkin. Brian was proving to be way more competent day by day. You'd seen him flip a pancake once before, but seeing it up close only had you more awe struck. "How do you do that?"

Sliding the freshly cooked pancake onto an empty plate, he spoke, "Do you want me to show you?"

The soft spark of adoration in his eyes at your enthusiasm over a trivial task was so cute. He'd had you set out four plates, stacking each plate with two to three pancakes based on him knowing the preferences of his roommates. The plate he'd just slid a pancake on was Tim's, he took two pancakes and you had enough batter for one more and some little ones for Goober. 

You had one shot to get this right, you couldn't sexily flip the bite sized pancakes for Goober. "Please do, holy shit." 

Chuckling, he readied the pan, pouring most of the batter into its hot surface and holding out an arm. "Okay," He spoke as he finished the preparations, "Come here." He took a step back from the stove while keeping one hand on the pans handle, he was inviting you to step into his arms. Very nice.

Willingly stepping into his embrace, leaning into his chest while you grabbed the pan's handle. His open arm wrapped around your front, softly caging you in against his warm body. He adjusted his hands to rest over yours, "Show me how it's fucking done, bee boy." You followed his lead, lifting the pan from the hot stove top. 

"Be patient." He murmured the same words he'd spoken so lowly to you last night. It had your heart skip a beat and redness in your cheeks, the teasing bastard.

"Fine," You let out a shuddering huff, _calm down girl,_ "Let's flip this baby already." You attempted to move the pan but his hands held you firm. His chest rumbled with a short laugh at your eagerness to flip a still uncooked pancake. If you tried it now batter would go everywhere, effectively ruining Tim's pancake.

"Wait." He softly commanded in a hushed voice. This motherfucker. 

"Brian, I swear to god." You didn't need to look up at him to know that he was smiling, knowing exactly what the fuck he was doing. 

"Can you two not be so cutesy at ten in the fuckin' morning?" Tim grumbled, you'd been so preoccupied with Brian that you hadn't noticed him shuffling down the hall. 

Brian's grip grew firm on your hands as he spoke, readying the both of you to flip Tim's pancake, "Nope." 

Tim huffed, hobbling over to the full pot of freshly brewed coffee. You made it yourself while Brian started the fist few pancakes. It was a comfortable silence while the two of you worked away, for each other and the others.

"Gross." Tim halfheartedly mumbled, opening the cabinet to grab a mug. 

You pulled your attention from him and to the pan, surface bubbling, bottom solidifying, ready to flip.

"Ready?" Brian ignored Tim's implied disgust, he was just grumpy from getting home so late. Though he was tired, he'd always proven to have a hard time finding sleep. Toby was a bit better with the ordeal of rest, but sometimes it backfired on him. The dreams coming back to haunt him, having him be more restless then when he started, as well as being grumpy as all hell. 

In a hushed mockery of a yell, you spoke, " _Let's fucking goooo."_

Your hands idly twitched at the inactivity, you wanted to flip the thing already. Dopamine from the standing cuddle with Brian and the tender vibe had you stupidly grinning.

You knew that he was going to be taking care of most of the work, just showing you how he moved his hands with yours under his to get a feel for the movement.

With a huffy laugh, Brian spoke, "Let's." He guided the pan back and forth, pulling in toward your bodies then pushing it away. Increasing speed had the pancake shifting in the pan, momentum building and you ready to lose your shit. 

With baited breath, the food left the pan as Brian flicked it up in a sudden yet expected motion. Full of practiced finesse. He didn't add enough force to have it flying in the air, it was more like a quick hop that so happened to have the treat flipping on its mostly uncooked side. It landed back in the pan with a soft sizzle as you gasp, mouth forming into an 'O'. Though he did most of the work you still contributed something by being there, maybe. Though now you understood how he did it, you had a feeling if you did it on your own the pancake would end up stuck to the ceiling.

"We did it." You had to keep yourself from jumping up and down and squealing, bouncing on your heels instead. You'd been having such a wonderful time as of late, you didn't know what to do with all this happiness. You were going to savor it while it lasted though, all good things come to an end sadly. 

"Yes we did." Brian guided your hands to Tim's plate as the man approached, snatching the silverware you'd set out.

"God." Tim grunted as he grabbed the plate of freshly cooked breakfast, "Thanks." He wasn't a complete oaf, having some basic manners.

He'd only taken a few sips of his morning coffee, not being very talkative or observant. You knew damn well that Brian had red and purple bruises on his neck and shoulders. His t-shirt did nothing to hide the little indents of where teeth had been on his throat. It idly reminded you of Sully, you had to push the thoughts away. Sully's flesh wasn't under your teeth last night, it had been a few weeks ago under different context and circumstances. The only thought you'd allow of the dead teenager was that he'd be happy for you. Telling you to show off your hickeys, wear them with pride like the bad bitch that you are. 

" _GOOD MMMUH-MORNING Y'ALL!"_ Toby shouted into the kitchen as Brian let you free of his embrace, you grabbing a plate of pancakes and utensils. 

"Be quiet, kid." Tim gravely informed as he sat himself down, finally taking a long sip of coffee.

Softly laughing as you approached your stool, "Morning Tobes."

"How'd you sleep?" Brian hummed, you could hear the sound of two ceramic plates being slid off the counter after he placed Goobers small pancakes on the floor. 

"I sssluh-slept great!" Toby chirped, upbeat unlike the last time you'd been around him while he slept. Though you woke him up from his nightmare, when he fell back asleep his sleep didn't get easier or better. Your presence couldn't fix it but you where there to hold him, comfort him while sleep took you away to a land of nightmares as well. Though it didn't fix anything, it was still nice to have comforting solidarity.

You hoped his happiness stemmed from a good nights rest and not the people he chopped up. Though you didn't see him return covered in blood, he always seemed to return like that. You'd figured that his role as proxy was purely to maim and murder. 

You sat yourself in your stool while Brian set out two freshly steaming plates of pancakes on the counter, "Glad to hear." You smiled at the boy, hair tousled and a bandage over his gash. His deep eye bags lessened, a spark of mischief in his eyes when he met yours. It only grew when they flickered downward. Oh no.

"Hey," He stalked forward, sliding into the stool next to you, "Wh-what's," He leaned on the counter over the plate Brian set out for him and pointed a gloved finger at your neck, "That?"

Toby wasn't that dumbly innocent, he knew damn well what he was looking at. That he was stirring the pot for the fun of it.

Tim lazily turned his head while cutting his pancakes, stopping to stare at where Toby's finger pointed. Tim looked like he'd seen a ghost except the ghost was kinda hot because he was shocked and blushing. Cute, but you were mildly mortified. This house had no secrets, no shame to hide, hickeys shouldn't be a big deal when you killed people together. They weren't but it was still embarrassing. Throughout life you'd been told to hide them, they're unsightly and shouldn't been seen by anyone other than your lover. But what if the other people in the room were also your lover? Yet this wasn't their work. Was that rude?

Sucking your lips into your mouth, lightly bruised from how hard you'd made out with Brian you willed yourself to respond. Still softly thinking of Sully. You'd tell the truth anyway but you'd do it with him in mind, keep his hoe spirit alive with shaky pride. 

Clicking your tongue you met his eye, batting his hand away playfully before piercing your breakfast with your fork, trying to appear casual. "A hickey, Toby."

Brian leaned over you, arm brushing against your shoulder while he corrected you, " _Hickeys."_

If you thought Brian was bad, his skin peppered in bites and bruises, then you were far worse. You thought you went a little wild on him but he outdid you. The sides of your upper neck lightly bruised by his fingertips. Big blotches of pink and purple, rimmed with a dark brown. It looked like he held up the circular sucking part of a vacuum to your neck and put it on blast.

You snapped your head to him, with a huff. He had a lopsided grin on his face, taking in your blush greedily.

"I can't stand you fuckers." Tim loudly sighed while shoving pancakes into his mouth. He could leave if he wanted to, there was no 'rule' about eating in their respective rooms and they all had proven to be messy. You took a gander that he was sticking it out, trying to get over his aversion for the topic but also the lightheartedly uncomfortable bonding that came with it.

Ignoring Tim's discomfort, Toby continued with a grin, "Sss-so." God. You forced food into your mouth, hoping it'd hide a possible cringe and make you feel more dignified, "How wa-was it?" 

Again proving himself not to be a child, nor innocent, Toby asked a question that'd hopefully stir up a little drama for him. Two people don't just look like that and _not_ have had sex. 

He continued before you or Tim could tell him to shut the fuck up, "Tell me ev-everything." He rose his brows expectantly, taking a moment to shoot a glance and Brian, clarifying, "About he-her not you." He scrunched his nose in mocking disgust earning a soft chuckle from Brian. 

You wanted to lay down and scream into the floor.

The thing about him was that he didn't understand a lot of social boundaries or unspoken rules. However, you couldn't tell if this was him not being able to read the room or him being a chaotic asshole.

Thankfully, Brian could read the room, stating lightly, "That's private Toby." Brian understood that discussing your sex life was probably an uncomfortable topic for you. Respecting the fact that blabbering about every little detail at the breakfast table, or anywhere else was rough.

You let out a sigh of relief, swallowing as Toby spoke once more, "Ok-okay, but was it good-ood?" You eyed Toby, if Brian wasn't going to tell him 'everything' you were sure he wouldn't tell him anything at all.

" _Very_." The one word response that rolled off of his tongue suggestively had you coughing and pounding on your chest. The surprise having you choke on your pancakes for a few moments, pounding your fist on the table. Of course he'd say something vague like that, not telling him any more but mildly embarrassing you but not crossing any lines. 

A large hand patted your back, supporting you through the moment, the hand of the man who started the moment. You refused to look at anything other than the plate before you, red faced and just wanting to have a good breakfast. Your coughing died down but Toby's snickering didn't, Brian's huffy laugh, Tim's exasperated sighing. 

You didn't add anything to the conversation, letting a comfortable-ish silence fall over the breakfast table as you ate. This house may have no secrets, but that didn't save it from awkward moments and lulls in conversation. 

You didn't expect him to say anything, resparking the conversation but he did, "I can't believe that you-" Tim skipped over a descriptor, "With her."

He did his best to sound irked, annoyed at the idea of sex. You saw right through him, transparent as always. The topic was one of interest for three of you, it sparked new ideas and opinions from the lot of you and he wanted to keep the conversation going. Even though the territory was rocky terrain for him, more embarrassed about it then Toby the virgin. He wanted to bond over it without getting too descriptive, chiding Brian for getting with you. While you and Tim were literally an item and he'd never made any claims about not desiring sex. He was just being a bit rude then.

You glanced over to him, finally okay enough to look at something other than your plate. He looked like he was going to shit himself, furrowed brows, tight lips, and red cheeks. You may have been embarrassed but that look on his face was priceless, adorable, he was trying so hard to join in on the fun. You weren't even mad at the false implication that sleeping with you was odd, you knew that he liked to lightly chide people as a form of abrasive affection. 

Brian huffed, taking him up on his playful challenge, "I can't believe that you," He paused mimicking Tim's lack of using a word for sex, "With him."

Jay. They hadn't spoken too much of the man but whenever they did it was a testament to their bond. Tim was okay with talking about the man who left him heartbroken but letting Brian joke about the dead man was on a whole other level. 

Tim sounded genuinely offended, " _I didn't."_

 _"Bullshit."_ Brian said with a laugh, you put a hand over your mouth to hold in a snicker. "You shared a bed with him for two years." He pointed an accusatory finger to the man.

"We booked cheap hotels! Of course we slept in the same bed." Tim weakly defended himself as Toby gave you a look of 'get a load of this guy'. You couldn't hold in the giggles.

"You sure slept with him alright." Brian called Tim out, sounding incredibly haughty. "Tim." He spoke his name with an air that you picked up as him about to drop something on the man that would fucking destroy him. You steeled yourself even though it wasn't about you.

"Brian." Tim hissed out a warning. As leader he could say the word, show genuine discomfort and Brian would pick up on it and stop. He didn't.

"For being hunted down by Alex and stalked by me." It was still dizzying that Tim was so cool about that. Did a part of him resent Brian? When they first became proxies did Tim hate him? "You guys sure left the curtains open a lot."

You slapped the table, doubling over with a guffaw. Toby cackled while Tim tried to babble out a defense. Brian patiently waited for the laughter to die down, still not done with him for his halfhearted jab at you. What a white knight. 

Coming back up, tears in your eyes and looking to Tim with a shit eating grin. You waited for Brian to continue his onslaught.

Tim pushed a few messily words past his agape lips, "It wasn't what it looked like!" 

Brian spoke with clear amusement, delving the gut punch of a line over Toby's howling laughter, "So Jay just so happened to moan your name whenever you were on top of him?" Tim choked on empty air, sputtering and gasping. "Honestly," He tutted ready to fucking obliterate Tim, "That man was a pillow princess if I've ever seen one."

Breath spilled from your lungs, you were wheezing and crying. Toby leaning his weight onto you as he laughed, not paying attention to where he moved himself, just lost in the moment. His laughter, his cute smile, Tim being flustered, Brian being a little shit, it only made you happier. Tim snatching his mug of coffee and taking a long sip, looking away, was the definition of visual comedy. 

Your stomach ached as you slowly ceased your giggles. Toby was still snickering when Tim spoke, "The mission last night was an absolute train wreck."

A blatant subject change. Too embarrassed to continue, the blush had traveled all the way up to his ears. You sucked your lips into your mouth as to not keep laughing, trying to respect his embarrassment. You hoped he wasn't too uncomfortable but if he wanted to remove himself from the situation, he could or tell the lot of you to shut up.

Though you hoped that he would have avoided the topic of missions, your shitty kinda job always weighed you down. You'd yet to be hired, hoping you'd never be but they were still on the job. You weren't going to ask them to not talk about missions after willingly going on one, you wanted to get more used to the talk. Talking about your problems was good to decompress. Even if those problems made you feel like a monster, a fact that you accepted but did not wear with pride. 

"What happened?" Brian asked with a barley hidden snicker, turning his attention to his pancakes. Not laughing at his embarrassment but laughing at the mission that had supposedly gone rough. Not so bad that Tim was in a tizzy about it but enough to where he grumbled out the words begrudgingly, it being the best option to completely change the subject. This was a normal Tuesday morning for them, it wasn't there yet for you, but if things kept going the way that they did, then it would be for you too. You were still hungry but there was a building sickness in your gut. You didn't want to subject yourself to this kind of talk, listen to them talk about killing or terrorizing some poor fool like it was idle gossip.

"I tuh-took all the kills!" Toby happily exclaimed, chipper over one upping your leader, chipper over killing multiple people. As the disgusting person you were, you kept on eating, appetite not soured by talk that you knew held weight to it. He wasn't joking. You were terrible, only feeling mildly nauseous but your hunger overtook your busted morality. 

Tim turned, snapping at the boy next to him, "That's only because _somebody,"_ He made dramatic air quotes, "' _Accidentally'_ pushed me down the stairs."

Snapping his head to the side, Toby defended himself, "It was th-though! I told you I was ah-about to bump into yo-you!" Normally, their dysfunction had you smiling and looking to them with adoration. You couldn't look at them, you focused on your pancakes to keep yourself grounded in reality. This was your life now, idle bickering about murder. 

"That little 'bump' was _not_ a fuckin' accident." You wondered how badly Tim was hurt. If Tim got his legs broken, being in helpless agony while Toby laughed at him. He didn't seem to be genuinely offended by Toby's implied actions _,_ hissing words at him, angry but not completely enraged. Was this a normal occurrence? Toby hated when Tim was in actual pain, actual pain being something that would genuinely fuck him up. Something that made Toby feel powerless over his comrades health. Like how he was with his burning mother. Except he knew Tim's face and name.

"You're a little fuckin' kill stealer, ya'know that?" Tim continued, your stomach dropped as pancakes slid down your esophagus. Still sickeningly hungry.

"I'm no-not! You're just ssluh-slow!" They were bickering like siblings, familiar sharp jabs but love underneath all that rage. 

"Am not!" Tim barked as reality continued to sink its sharp claws into your flesh. You'd accepted them into your life, lived with the sins on your back without pride, hated The Operator for what it made you do. Yet that didn't change the fact that they took some enjoyment in their forced profession. Taking anger out on people who were going to die anyway, batting them around like a cat with yarn.

You understood having to do whatever you could do to stay as okay as possible, you were shamelessly loving them after all. Not just to feel okay, but it was a big reason you so easily allowed yourself to fall in love. You got it but it was still disgusting all the same, you understood. Killing Doug far too brutally for what was reasonable, as well as that Chris fucker. Pouring rage into their bodies until they couldn't move. That was feral rage, the first step toward becoming like them. Taking out anger on others but having way too much fun with it. Laughing and joking at their expense. 

"Tim you are a bit of a slow runner." Brian chimed in, words muffled by the pancakes he'd stuffed into his cheeks.

You wondered if he picked up on your discomfort, being the observant person that he is, he probably had. He didn't stop them because he was on the same mental page as you, just with mildly different intentions. Wanting you to be used to and okay with this kind of talk, using exposure to do so. He was looking out for you but he was probably thinking of the future. Thinking of the longevity of you becoming a proxy instead of you just trying to protect what little mental stability you had left. Sure, he was in it for that too, but he was hoping that you listening in was an act of submission to your circumstances, to accepting the futility of your fate like he had.

"No I'm not!" Tim snapped at the older man. 

You ate fervently while they spat disagreements over killing back and forth. The general story was that Tim and Toby were to kill a family of five, you wondered if they had to kill children. Kids or not, it was lives ended way too early at the twinks request. Tim was chasing one of them down the stairs after Toby killed the father. You'd wondered if he'd taken joy in killing a dad, thinking of his own while he did the deed. Toby 'accidentally' slammed him down the stairs, throwing Tim's body into the retreating girl. He broke one of his legs, wind knocked out of him while Toby killed the girl who'd been thrown under Tim. Stealing the kill literally right out from under him.

As much as you wanted to get yourself used to this sort of thing, you needed a break. Progress wasn't linear and that easy. You excused yourself from breakfast in a manner that tried to not scream ' _if they didn't shut the fuck up about murder, you'd have a mental breakdown, go on a walk, and break both of your fucking legs.'_

Thankfully, they could understand your distress when you left the room, not asking you to stay to listen in more than you already had. Though they continued their chatter of the job, Toby quickly switching to the topic of landing a hatchet in the dead center of one of their backs while they were running, ducking and weaving. 

Though you didn't feel like the walls were closing in, you didn't need to go on a walk but the idea was tempting. Instead you went into Brian's room to root through your stuffed suitcase, you really needed to nag them about getting you a dresser. You just needed something to keep yourself grounded in reality but not the shitty one. You wanted to go back to the softness before, forget how awful all of you were. 

Entering Brian's room, Goober had laid himself on the bed. Brian had fed and walked him earlier in the morning, right after the two of you had you sleepy 'good morning's. Seeing you move toward your suitcase, Goober perked up, jumping off the bed and padding to your side. Stopping and sitting on the floor before your suitcase, you let a hand run through his dark fur. He let out a content grumble, watching as you threw your other hand into the suitcase. 

You weren't looking for clothes, you were looking for the few other bottles of nail polish Brian had blindly grabbed when rooting through your old apartment. ' _Stupid Whore Pink'_ could only last so long, there were only a few spots of it left on your fingernails. You needed a repaint, it'd be a wholesomely normal activity. One that reminded you of Sully, he'd bought you the polish after all. You'd wear the pink with pride like you wore the hickeys, except the hickeys were deeply embarrassing and made you want to curl into a ball and scream. You did this shit for him, a dead teenager who definitely had a closed casket funeral. 

There were other nail polishes, you'd seen them lying around between the folds of your clothes, but you hadn't paid them much mind. Just a sprinkling of bright color that'd catch your eye every once in a while. Pink, blue, purple. Now that you actually wanted to find them, they were nowhere to be seen. Hand rubbing back and forth on Goober's fuzzy back while you tore clothes out of the suitcase, shaking them out to see if the little bottles were in there. 

It was like Christ himself could hear your mental pleas for the polishes, praying for normalcy. If there was a god, the motherfucker was fickle and only came in clutch in times of stupid need. Any other time and you were on your own. That was fine, you could help yourself, be your own hero. 

The bottles rattled as they tumbled out of your old sweater, bold white letters telling you that 'Big Dick Is Back In Town'. The last time you wore it 'Masky' had terrorized you all night by knocking on your door. You couldn't hear knocking anymore and not be filled with a panicked surge of fear, you should kick his ass for that honestly. As well as everything else that he had still yet to apologize for. You weren't over anything completely, the wounds were healing but they'd leave scars, jagged and rough.

They tumbled out of its sleeve and onto the cloth of a pair of jeans, you had no idea how they got in there. Didn't matter, you were just happy to see the bottles. Relief and bittersweet nostalgia. Grabbing the bottles and putting them on your lap, you shoved your strewn clothes back into the suitcase. 

"What'cha duh-doing?" You turned your head to see Toby leaning into the doorway, drumming his fingers idly on the wooden frame. He had removed the bandage, smiling at you, his gash stretching widely as he looked down at your crouched form. They were done with their gruesome chitchat, you could feel a little less shitty, maybe. Part of you wanted to tell him to go away, let you be, play the moral high ground because you didn't kill anybody last night. You'd killed plenty though and you were probably going to be forced to kill again soon. You had no room to talk to him like that, you also didn't want to. He was a tragic victim of circumstance, flourishing in his horrid environment.

You held up the three polishes in your hand for him to see as you stood yourself up, "Gettin' some nail polish. You want me to repaint your nails?" An excuse to touch him, gently hold the murderer, destroyer of an entire family. There was repulsion inside of you at his delight for the act, you weren't going to push that feeling away. It told you were still somewhat sound in the head still, morally gray and not completely engulfed in the darkness. As scary as he was, he was still Toby, you still loved him. Maybe you weren't as mentally sound as you thought you were, just indulging in wishful thinking.

He perked up at the suggest as you padded over to him, looking to sit in the living room, spend time with all your boys. Goober had fallen in tow, every single boy. Even the goodest one.

"Yeah! Ye-yeah" He spoke as he turned toward the hall, waiting for you before he started to walk. Rolling his shoulders back, he called out as the two of you walked, you behind him and Goober behind you. Toby had yet to completely pounce on you for your touch, respecting that you were freaked out, Tim or Brian probably had to explain that to him. His lack of social awareness was jarring at times, likely to be a product of being so sheltered from society as you theorized him to be. Yet you'd had no confirmation from him.

Throwing himself on the couch, he immediately patted the space next to him for you to join him. You plopped right next to him, your sides pressed together, one his gloved hands coming to rest idly on your knee. 

You could hear rushing water, the clinks of porcelain, soft chatter. Tim and Brian had taken it upon themselves to clean up. It was Tim's turn but Brian must have kindly offered to help out, getting in some time with Tim. They probably didn't get much time alone together. Having you and Toby around was great, but you understood wanting to sometimes spend time with a specific person. 

As Goober hopped on the couch, laying himself across your lap and your lap alone. It wasn't that Toby and Goober hated each other, it was just that Toby didn't care about animals in the slightest. It was just something that didn't cross his mind. He was never mean to the dog though, if he was you and Brian would fucking decimate him.

Setting the polishes on the counter, your gaze lingered on the pink, eyes flickering to the purple. Appropriately named ' _Really Bad Hickey'_ while the right beside it ' _I Know You're Sad And Lonely But Don't Text Your Ex'._ Both of them were Sully's, left in your apartment and you always intended to give them back to him but you just kept forgetting. Now they were before you, making you feel a certain way, like a sad bitch. You may have been a cannibalistic murderer, but you also had a working brain. While staring at the line of colors, thinking of Sully, how proud of you he'd be for 'getting it', you spoke in a moment of word association, "Oh fuck, bi pride."

Toby shifted beside you with a tic, parroting you, "Bi puh-pride!" You didn't think that you'd hear a murderer say the phrase 'Bi pride' in your entire life. "Ya'know," He clicked his tongue, "I'm bi, too. Duh-don't think I ever told you." He pointed a gloved at the colors, pink, purple, blue.

"You're bi?" You glanced at him, mirroring his statement. He talked of thinking that he'd never gotten with anybody. Though he could still figure out his sexuality without dating anybody it was still a surprising thing to hear.

"Yeah!" He chirped, "Fun fa-fact! When I first got here, I had a cru-crush on Brian and the oh-old man." Being confused, young, and with only two other people in the whole world who understood you made his statement understandable. You were the same, but your feelings weren't in the past tense, more than petty crushes. 

"Really?" You asked, though you got it, it was still a bit of a jarring statement to hear from him with their present day dynamic, like the two men were his dads but not really. He kinda had some baggage about fathers, it was more like they were lovingly looking after a feral gutter rat.

He vigorously nodded, curls bouncing as he did so, "Got over it as ssuh-soon as I got to know them though." The two of your glanced to the entrance of kitchen, the two of them mumbling about things you couldn't hear. He looked to you and you met his gaze, he had a mischievous grin upon his lips as he elbowed you playfully, "I don't know wha-what you ssuh-see in them." He snickered at the other men's expense. 

You huffed, "Plenty." You'd defend them but you couldn't help but playfully insult them. You leaned your head toward him, and lowly continued, "But I get why you'd be confused, they fucking smell." When they were soaked in blood, they smelled but when things were normal it was just Tim who smelled. A con of smoking like a chimney.

The sound of him cackling filled your stomach with butterflies, this was so much better than hearing him talk about murder. You hoped the topic would be off his mind for awhile. You knew what he'd done but the mental image of the giggling boy beside you, who was throwing an arm around you to pull you into a firm side hug, had murdered five people last night in cold blood was hard to wrap your mind around. You'd seen him do it, you'd heard him do it, but something told you that you'd only seen the tip of the iceberg. All kills you'd been present for were tame for him.

Sighing, resting his head atop yours and nuzzling his face into your (h/c) locks, he hummed, "I missed yuh-you."

He was gone for a single day, but you completely understood. You threw an arm around his back, melting into him, "I missed you too."

The soft and quiet moment didn't last long before Toby remembered the existence of the nail polish bottles. Loudly exclaiming something about wanting you to paint his nails all of the colors. It was a pretty color combination after all, you shared his sentiment, you'd get to yourself once you were done with him. The both of you shifted on the couch, sitting cross legged and facing one another.

You took notice of Toby pulling off his soft gloves. You didn't get to see his hands too often, so whenever he took his gloves off, you always took the time to spare them a glance. It was a weird thought but Toby had the most interesting set of hands you'd ever seen. Warped yet healed burn scars, callouses, the back of his hand being so hairy, fingertips uneven with all the picking he put them through, light lines of scar tissue, healed but of unknown origin.

"Nice hands." You voiced the thought without censoring yourself, akin to how he generally goes about speaking.

Glancing to his hands, he furrowed his brows, shooting you a confused glance, "Thanks, but _wh-what?"_

"You have nice hands." You spoke, taking one of his hands into yours to hold it steady to paint his fingernails. You'd unscrewed the top of the blue polish, opting to paint only a few nails each color. "They're pretty." You repeated the sentiment, wording it better. By societal standards, they were deformed but in your eyes they were beautiful. They may be heavily scarred, telling details of a story you didn't get to see, but they were his hands, the hands of a survivor of the twink's bullshit and so much more. They fit into yours so well, it was a pity that he had to cover them most of the time to keep himself from picking at them. 

"Do you ruh-really think so?" He sounded awestruck by the suggestion, looking to his hands. Getting affection from you was always something he'd taken in greedily. Always yearning for more. He was excited to be in love for sure, but he wasn't used to being treated so tenderly. You wondered if he thought of his hands as ugly, being another reason he donned his gloves. Though he wore his gash without shame, not giving a shit if it was by societal standards unsightly. 

You carefully dragging the brush across his thumb's nail. Brushing your thumb back and forth on the back of his hand, you hummed, "Absolutely," You looked up from his hands and to him, a soft look of disbelief mixed with happiness, "Everything about you is pretty." Cute was another good word, handsome too, but you were going to keep with the theme of calling him pretty. He was a pretty motherfucker, there was nothing weird about calling him that.

Toby surged forward, pressing a lazy smooch on the center of your forehead. "No, you." He childishly retorted while pulling away, taking in your spreading grin with one of his own.

He'd done his very best to suppress his tics as you worked on his hand. Though you took a break so he could allow himself to tic, sighing in relief. He made a suggestion while you heard a yelp from Tim in the kitchen, " _BRIAN! DON'T FUCKIN' SPRAY WATER AT ME!"_

The two of you cackled as he picked up ' _Stupid Whore Pink',_ you held out your hand, fingers spread, nails read to be repainted. The two of you snickering while one of Toby's hands held yours steady, hand that held the brush shaking slightly. He was an artist, this shouldn't be too hard for him, right?

Wrong. He'd gotten pink all over your pointer finger, your nail, fingertip, knuckle, and somehow your palm. He was doing his best to concentrate but he was proving to be cutely awful at this. Sticking the tip of his tongue out of his gash while he did his best to concentrate.

Keeping quiet so he could work on his craft, you heard Tim cackle victoriously from the kitchen, " _YOU READY FOR A TASTE OF YOUR OWN MEDICINE, NOW THAT I_ _GOT THE FUCKIN' FAUCET THINGY, HUH?!"_ Loud hisses and splattering told you that he was spraying the faucet and missing. Effectively making more of a mess for the two of them to clean up.

Toby had completely tuned them out, hyper focused on the task at hand. You held a soft gaze at him, sweet and caring. It grew harder to envision him as what he was: A sadistic monster.

He'd moved on to the purple polish. While he worked away, you listened in on the absolute disaster that was happening in the kitchen. There was no slamming of bodies but there was plenty of Tim yelling and laughing from the both of them. Soft and understated unlike how Toby play fought with such rough vigor. 

Your middle finger was slathered in purple when the other boys came into the room. Shirts soaking and sticking lightly to their chests. Although Tim's face had a few droplets rolling down it, spilling down from his hair. Brian really got him, looking proud of himself while Tim couldn't even playfully be mad. The stupid smile on his face was a wonderful sight. If they were happy, you were happy.

Instead of going to changed into dry clothes or dry off his hair, Tim approached, "I know that he's supposed to be painting your nails but right know it looks like he's painting your entire fuckin' hand." He pointed out with Brian in tow, the two of them coming to join in.

Toby's head snapped to the older men, concentration unbroken by yelling but Tim cracking an actually somewhat funny joke got him. "Li-like you can do any buh-better." He challenged, yet the hand that steadied yours increased its grip. Possessive over it, his sloppy work, you. 

Tim huffed, "Excuse me? Of course I can." He was before the coffee table in an instant, his back to you. "(Y/n) gimme your fuckin' hand, I'm gonna show this little baby what's what." He grumbled, looking away from you seeming very interested in the options of pink or blue. Toby had only worked on one of your hands, the other clean of wet polish. 

Brian sat himself beside you on the couch, leaning over your shoulder and bending down to let his head rest on you. You glanced at him, the both of you softly smiling at one another. He then turned his head and blew a huff of air on your abused neck. It didn't feel like much other than hot air, it couldn't have your bruises acting up but it was an acknowledgment of his work, right in front of the others. Toby too busy to notice while Tim was still reeling from his coy request for you to give him his hand. You mouthed a quiet and playful ' _Fuck you,'_ to Brian. He only snickered in response, arms snaking around your torso, fingers dragging softly across your body. 

Tim chose pink, surprising as the first time you brought up nail polish, he bashed the color. You held out your hand to him with a smirk, smug that Toby unknowingly sparked the man's competitive spirit, tricking him into tenderly holding your hand to paint your nails. Though he was brash, acting like he wasn't totally into you, he made no comments about only doing it to prove Toby wrong. It was about that but you had an idea he didn't really feel very comfortable initiating touch, it gave him a perfect excuse to hold your hand. 

"Don't move around too much," Tim unscrewed the polish, meeting your eye, "Don't wanna mess up." He smiled warmly, not adding anything about the composition of being the better nail painter. You wondered if he wanted your approval if he did a good job on your nails. Cute.

"Got it, leader man." Responding with a curt nod, a large and calloused hand coming under yours. Gently cupping your palm, his cheeks dusted pink, eyes darting to the little brush. You could see the gears turning in his head, he was a grown ass man, he knew how to paint nails. It was just a dainty task he probably hadn't partaken in for a long time, if at all.

You were glad he was doing it, an unfamiliar task with you. You wondered if he'd let you take his hands into yours and let you paint them once more. Two boys holding your hands, one holding you from behind, it was nice. Peaceful. 

No punishments from the twig, you didn't think it knew. A step forward, clean without repercussion. It seemed the type for quick and immediate punishment. Even if it didn't know, you still had to prove yourself to it. It still had to break you, leave you unloved, your one love left being cold blooded murder.

You'd thought about it a lot but right now, warmly held by your boys, even after they so casually disgusted murder, you felt safe, okay, strangely normal.

Forgetting about the bloodshed for a few moments of sweet bliss.


	46. 45 - Play With Your Food

**NSFW Content: There's straight up no sex but it does get VERY sexual. There will be warnings before and after the scene.**

**Note: The scene is plot relevant but there will be a short nondescript summary in bold after it for those who do not want to read it.**

Technically, you didn't have to do this. Toby had been bugged you about it all morning, excitedly chattering about how fun it would be, a short easy mission and a romantic hike to their campsite. Brain had overheard and was iffy on the idea, brows furrowed and eyes darting silently from you to Toby. Showing genuine concern, but not for your aversion to the sight of death and gore, but to the idea of you two being alone in that kind of scenario. Tim joined in the conversation and laid some truth onto you, something bitter but something you'd have live with.

" _(Y/n), you're gonna have to get used to this sorta shit eventually. Better now than later."_

He was right. Unless you could come up with a plan to kick The Operator's ass next week, then you'd have to do this. Get more used to killing, take a life and lose another piece of who you once were. If that person is even still there or if she ever was there in the first place. A figment of your imagination, something for your faulty moral compass to cling to and let you tell yourself how good of a person you were, even when you killed someone in high school. 

It didn't matter, no matter who or how, murder was murder and it'd make you hate yourself even more. It'd fuel your hateful spite for the twink, maybe be some type of awful bonding with Toby, further going against its will while also doing what it wanted. Hopefully luring it into a false sense of a security that you were submitting. It wasn't like that in the slightest. 

You had a gun, ratty jeans, and a plain hoodie that Tim stole for you. Wearing your own clothes to a mission felt wrong, like you were going all in, not banking on the others clothing for some odd comfort. Going on the mission of your own volition, you felt disgusting, but since when have you ever not felt that way? Same shit, different day.

Mask in one hand and gun in the other, you were ready to leave. As Toby made a show of holding the door open for you, Brian called out something to him as the door began to swing shut with his departure of the cabin.

" _Behave yourself."_

You don't know why they seemed to be so worried. 

The walk through the woods was long, Toby leading the way while talking excitedly of slaughter. Telling you to watch him do this and that. You weren't okay with it, but you weren't exactly sick to your stomach, just a feeling of dread and mild discomfort. You weren't going to revel in the act, make it quick and painless, then go home and cry about how much you hated yourself. Only stopped by their comfort and the piece of mind that you were doing all of this to get out of here, kill people who were going to die anyway to escape.

This was normal for him though, he was some fucked up kid with not much else in his life to look forward to. Horribly coping with his situation and getting way too into it. You didn't hide your discomfort, it made you feel less like a monster about to kill some poor people. 

The sun had fallen low by the time the two of you caught the flickering glow of a campfire, Toby holding your hand and swinging your conjoined fingers to and fro. Orange light warmly illuminating their gray tents and the still water beside them. A nice camping trip by a lake. In a spark of morbid thought, you wondered if the body of water's name was crystal lake, camping by a lake like that always saw to stupid horny teenagers deaths.

He told you that he _knew_ that was the target's campfire, their two tents harboring two people each. All you could think about was after, the walk had been hours long. After the job was done should you sleep in the corpses tents, warm your hands by their fire, eat the food they couldn't anymore? The thought made you sick.

They left the fire going, in their tents, quiet as mice. That was just plain negligent of the forest around them, they could start a forest fire. Toby unexpectedly stopped you as the two of you approached the tents, his hand dropping from yours to get ready.

Though two hatchets hung from his sides, he asked you, "Ca-can I have the gu-gun?"

Voice muffled by the face mask that he'd pulled over his lips. Googles pulled down before his eyes, it was hard to look at him like that but you forced yourself to make eye contact through the holes of your mask. On even grounds, the both of you disgusting and about to kill four people.

"What? No." You only had vague memory of that night in the alleyway, Toby asking for the gun to fill you with holes. Tim squawking at Brian to not do that because he'd go ape shit. It was a precaution and it was unnecessary when he already had weapons of his own that you knew he could throw into peoples bodies with deadly accuracy.

"Come on." He whined, holding out his hands, cupping them together like he was expecting you to pass him a cool frog you found except you didn't have a frog, you had a loaded pistol. Voice lowering, there was a twinge of something more than excitement in his voice, blood lust.

"I can tuh-take care of all of th-them for you _muh-maus_." You didn't like that tone, you weren't scared for them, you were scared for yourself. Not thinking that you were going to die but that you were going to see some shit. 

You were getting cold feet. This was Toby's mission, you didn't have to kill anybody, he could take care of it. You didn't want to hate yourself that much, what if all the self hate led to you giving in? You didn't know if it would, the thing about knowing people were about to get brutally murdered is that your thought process was muddled as all hell. Rational and cohesive thoughts thrown out the window. You weren't Brian, you couldn't keep a cool head. You weren't Tim, you didn't know the best way to go about this. 

It took so much mental fortitude to not take a step back when Toby took one forward, still holding out his hands. "I won't tuh-tell anyone."   
About you taking a backseat on a mission that wasn't your or you giving him the gun? In a hissed whisper, he giggled, _"It'll be our little sssuh-secret."_ A chill clawed its way up your spine, he was a comfort to you, you loved him and he loved you. Yet you knew he wasn't trying to protect you from murder, he just wanted to have some fun, even more than he already did. His words weren't an act of love but he was still the same person you loved, just another side of him you didn't get to see too often. You hoped this was the extent of it, excited and cocky but not going fucking bananas. 

You could watch, maybe strengthen your resolve and spite for the twink but not get any actual blood on your hands. Toby could kill them faster, you wouldn't have to wait for him to bludgeon people with his hatchets when he could just put holes in their brains. He had great aim with with hatchets, what could go wrong with giving him a gun?

You gave him the gun. You'd already switched the safety off there was no point in turning it back on when he was about to fire the thing. 

No 'thank you' from him, just elated giggling, and a hushed murmur of ' _fuck yeah_ '. Dangerously waving the gun about, overjoyed that he was holding one. A rational thought formed in your head, just one, maybe that was a bad idea and he didn't know about gun safety. It technically didn't matter when he was going to be murdering people with it but there was protocol for this kinda shit for a reason. You didn't wanna get shot, he'd be fine if he got shot but it'd still suck.

_"Wh-watch this."_ Toby's blood lust was apparent, even more so than before. You couldn't see his mouth but you were sure he was smiling.By no means were you new to murder but it still had its affects on you, the idea of it, knowing it was about to happen had you shaking.

The two of you were only a few yards from the slumbering group, probably feeling safe in their tents and whisked away to a land of dreams. Toby shoved the gun in his hoodie pocket, incredibly unsafe and stupid of him. But when had Toby ever been known for making well thought out and smart decisions? Instead of shooting blindly into the tents like you were hoping he'd do, he approached their tents, taking his hatchets into his hands. 

Why did he ask for the gun then?

You stayed in place, not frozen but just letting things happen. Making yourself watch when you could turn away, feeling like you had to do something terrible as long as you were here. That something would be voyeuristically watching a series of murders. 

He didn't keep you waiting with baited breath for long, the closer he got to the tents, the faster he moved. The firelight framing his back, shining brilliantly off the rust free hatchet. Footsteps weren't covered up by other sounds or an attempt at stealth. Toby didn't give a shit, he was just here to cut some people open, probably hoping one of them would hear his approach, run away screaming so he could chase them down.

The zipper to open the tent was completely ignored, Toby slashed his hatchet through the thin fabric of the tent, exposing two laying silhouettes, looking to you to shoot you a quick thumbs-up. 

"Huh?" One of them peeled themselves up, you could just barely see them from behind Toby's frame. His head snapped to the poor soul who'd woken up to a masked man in their tent. Toby was on them in an instant, sitting on their chest, legs on either side of their torso, they screamed out a shrill, " _What the fuck?!"_

The residents of the tent that hadn't been torn into started to stir, asking mumbled questions that you subconsciously tuned out. You couldn't look away from Toby's back. One hatchet raised over his head while the other was forced forward, disappearing behind the frame of his torso, an arm weakly trying to push Toby off before convulsing and falling. You could hear a wet slap, a scream, and Toby's laughter. They didn't stop screaming, they were still alive as the hatchet over his head was brought down, cracking and gasping coughs. The tents other resident had awoken and was scrambling out of their sleeping bag, screaming, " _OH MY GOD!"_

Was that really all they had to say about a murder happening right beside them? Wow. 

You were only vaguely aware of them pushing past the torn hole in their tent, the blood of a friend, lover, or family member splattering on their clothes as they stumbled out. Toby kept going, letting them escape, laughing and raising a hatchet above his head again. The person below him was raggedly screeching, you could see the silhouette of their hands coming up to try to block the hatchet once again to defend themselves.

 _"Ooh! Looks like wuh-we got a buh-bit of a fffuh-fighter over here!"_ Toby cackled at their attempt of useless self defense, mocking them, reminding you of all the shit he'd done that night at the cabin. All the shit he'd done while stalking you. Things were different now but he was still the same, a monster to the core. Love couldn't change that. 

The people in the other tent unzipped their tent, the firelight showing their concerned faces, wide eyes with fear and confusion. Looking to the tent that Toby was in, blood flying back as he ripped it from a place unseen, wheezing laughter. 

" _OH MY GOD!"_ Again? They have nothing else to say about the situation? Not even calling out the victims name? Man, people in shock, how dare they not be eloquent?

Reasonably, they didn't lunge for Toby, not going to play the hero on someone who was probably going to bleed out in a few minutes. Though you saw none of the real damage, you didn't doubt it was pretty bad. Toby could have killed them already, a hatchet to the head was quite effective at shutting somebody up but instead he cut them in places where they wouldn't instantly die or pass out. Delighting in their screams as the residents of the other tent began to tear themselves from their tent.

Instead of another hatchet coming up behind his head, he brought something else up, only to throw it behind his back. It bounced in the dirt a few times, rolling limply towards you. 

" _Come on! Wh-why aren't you ffuh-fighting anymore?"_ He didn't stop moving for a second, shoulders rolling back, head almost constantly to the side, jerking to go further but it couldn't. So every few seconds his bent head and his neck just spasmed.

A single hand, wrist raggedly severed from its arm, lay in front of you curling and twitching, a small puddle of blood forming underneath it. Unable to be used as a line of defense against Toby. You wondered what he'd done to their other hand, if he even bothered. Knowing him, understanding how much he fun he was having, he'd probably broken it to make them feel more helpless, even though they were beyond even with two hands. Probably savoring the desperation in their eyes, the denial that they were going to die evident in their struggle, a lot of people had a complex where they believed bad things wouldn't happen to them. That they wouldn't die til they were old and gray. He probably got such a fucking kick out of delivering the news to them that they could die in the worst ways possible, even in their twenties, even if they were good people.

There was no retort, no strongly worded defense, just ragged crying. Pathetic and unable to speak. They probably couldn't feel much in the shock but their body freaking out at the scenario of behind chopped up.

" _(Y/n)!"_ He called out to you, your eyes snapped from the bloodied hand to him, jittering and goggles dripping in red. At your masked gaze he brought up a hand, literally. He held their other hand in his, hatchets probably buried in them or resting on the floor of the tent. Torn flesh and bone peeking out from where their wrist had once been connected to their forearm. His fingers intertwined between theirs, he waved it back and forth, he was forcing the fingers to stay upright, splayed out in what could be a friendly wave. Except it was somebody's hand that he'd just chopped off.

" _Hiiiii!"_ He drawled lazily swaying it back and forth. You were sickeningly reminded of Henry's body, knocking on the window as he snickered and giggled.

You were scared, his jovial tone, the sinister sway of the strangers hand in his. You knew him to enjoy killing, but you didn't think he'd delve into such morbid territory when interacting with you. Forcing you into his disgusting good time, you wanted no part. You didn't want to see him so happy while killing, you wanted to see him happily painting nails or doodling. This wasn't right but the image you had of him, his dichotomy, you knew what he was a wild one but you wanted to forget. Not his past sins to you, it was an important part of how your relationship formed. You wanted to forget what he was capable of, the fact that you knew under his face mask he was smiling. It had your heart thumping at your partner in literal crime. 

" _No huh-hi back? You're no fffuh-fun!"_

Though you may be safe from the business end of his hatchet, it was still terrifying to see the blood lust jumping out. You couldn't make yourself wave back, you weren't sick to your stomach, you were growing desensitized to this all too quickly. Sure, it was the loss of a human life but it was one that didn't matter to you, so what if they suffered a bit before dying? They'll die either way so why not? 

If you accepted that, being okay with how fun he found killing, you'd be even worse, maybe too far gone. Would that break you as a person or would it empower you? If you just let go of self hate for a second and put yourself into his shoes, completely accept it as a reprieve, would you feel better? Would that moment of violent triumph fuel you with even more of a power trip, giving you more confidence that you could escape The Operators grasp? Or would that just make your case worse, deepen the cracks in your crumbling character and leave you more mentally fucked? If you enjoyed it and got something out of it, was there even a point in feeling bad afterward? Why should you feel bad? They're all doomed anyway.

This wasn't okay, you weren't okay, you didn't know if you would ever be okay. 

You forced a stop to those dark thoughts creeping up on you. Though the shriveling lack of empathy for the loss of life was jarring, the creeping acceptance of bloody sadism from Toby was even worse. The spark of consideration toward the idea was sickening, the sickness made you feel better, you were still somewhat rational deep down, grounded. 

Your attention was snapped from something other than the brutal murder. The one who'd been sleeping next to the person being chopped up had already retreated. One of them from the other tent had run after them, the two of them hadn't seen you. Too focused on the uncertain path ahead, they passed right by you. The last person though, they saw you right by the path their friends had ran down. They paused with a gasp, seeing you as a threat, quietly threatening them to just try to run. They turned around and went a different direction.

You were sure Toby could catch the other two, just chase them down when he was done in the tent. What about the other though, they went another way, running toward the lake, maybe hoping to run along side it for more even ground. He could catch the other two but what if he lost this one? You trusted his ability to kill but if he didn't kill the retreating figure, he just might be punished. 

The very idea of your boy being hurt, even when he deserved it, even when he was showing you the worst side of himself, chaotic and blood thirsty, had you feeling sick, worse than the disgust you felt towards killing. It had you casting fear of him aside, you had to protect him, you had to run, not from him but to them. 

Kill them.

You lurched forward, feet pounding into the dirt, no weapon on you, just sheer determination and tunnel vision for the poor soul who looked over their shoulder. They looked horrified to find you sprinting toward them, with a yelp they turned their gaze back to the lake. Honestly, they should have ran deeper into the woods, forcing you to dodge around trees, avoid roots and rocks but instead they blindly panicked. Taking what seemed to be the path of least resistance. Coward.

The screaming from the tent finally stopped but Toby's laughing didn't. " _Oh muh-man! Th-that was too eah-easy!"_ Deranged delight mixed with disappointment, he wanted a real fight, a real chase. As you passed by the tent, dead set on catching the figure, he exited it. You only saw him in your peripherals, a mix of brown, red, and orange. 

" _Ooh! Go get'em mm-maus!"_

Laughing like you were adorable, like the soft loving laugh you have at a pet doing something dumb. 

You weren't something to be laughed at. You were scared, doing this for him. The least he could fucking do was not yell shit like that at you. To say you were in a shitty mood was an understatement. 

" _Don't tuh-take too long! I wah-want to you to sssuh-see me get another wuh-one!"_

This wasn't a game. This wasn't something that you could decide the amount of time you'd spend chasing them. You didn't have the experience or know how on chasing people down to 'not take too long'. You'd be done when you were done. 

His words scared you, wanting to subject you to gore, but they also annoyed the fuck out of you. Couldn't he see that you were having a bad night? He had to know you didn't quite enjoy yourself while doing this kind of shit and were just here for him. Shouldn't that be obvious? Egging you on then telling you what to do all after cackling as he brutally murdered somebody, it was mixed signals that you weren't taking kindly to. 

You didn't know what to say, tell him to shut up, tell him to leave you alone, tell him to give you support, tell him fruitlessly to stop. There was too much going on in your head to decided, the only sound that passed through your lips was labored breathing as you ran after the fucking coward. 

Toby had gone the other way, his laughter and whooping calls after the other targets grew distant as the both of you focused on different people. 

God, could he shut the fuck up?

The person looked over their shoulder as they continued to throw themselves forward, which was a stupid idea. You were gaining on them, they didn't look too happy at the fact. Letting out a gasping cry of shock and horror. Honestly, you were the lesser evil, couldn't they see that? Your dumb ass self didn't have a fucking weapon aside from rage. Annoyance mixed with the adrenaline, you couldn't tell if it was human instinct spurring you on for the chase or if it was your protective nature taking hold, willing to do anything for Toby. Pushing your body into overdrive just so you could kill somebody.

It pissed you off that you'd do anything for the annoying murderous asshole. You fucking loved him but Jesus Christ, you were just so done with the whole situation. You wanted to get a little sympathy, some slack but instead you got fearful glances and annoying encouragement over murder. 

Your head wasn't in the right place but you didn't care. Rational thoughts didn't matter, the fact that Toby was socially inept fell away, you felt silly feeling pettily angry over the situation. Yet the situation was you chasing somebody down, you were undermining yourself, worsening your mood. You just wanted a respite.

" _Leave me alone!"_ They called out to you, your breaths growing more labored, running with the mask on was such a pain in the ass. Your legs burning, heart thumping angrily, blood hot in your veins, tunnel vision taking over.

You weren't going to leave them alone, not until they were dead. You wanted to think that you were doing this all for Toby, not wanting him to get hurt but honestly, Toby was an annoyance right now. You let yourself feel the rush, angrily enjoy the chase, you wanted to shut them up, you weren't even that scary. You were the better one to be killed by, nicer and with so much more mercy. Sure, they were going to die anyway but couldn't they be grateful it'd be by your hand? 

_**B A N G !**_

_"CUH-COME BACK I JUST WANNA PUH-PLAY WITH YOU!"_

Distant screaming, sharp laughter cutting through the night air. He'd said words like that to you before. A spike of jealousy filling you, he had your gun even when he had weapons of his own. The greedy fucker.

They'd probably get a good hit in, it wasn't like you knew how to fight somebody, you were just blindly running at the them without a plan. Yet they were scared all the same, telling you to leave them alone was a fools errand just to make them feel better. A useless reprieve, maybe trying to spark some empathy or make you see reason. That was so fucking stupid, if you were just some random murderer who didn't have to kill them, then this would have been more planned probably. It wouldn't do anything to stop you. 

_**B A N G !**_

_"TH-THIS IS FUN RIGH-RIGHT?"_

Another gunshot, another spike of jealousy mixed with rage. You weren't having as much fun as he was. You'd have to this by hand while Toby got too many weapons mixed with his disgusting amount of strength. This wasn't fair. 

Growling through gritted teeth, your jaw clamped shut. Spite for the retreating idiotic coward fueling you to move faster.

" _Stop! Go away!"_ Again with that shit? 

Their pathetic call just spurred you to move faster, growling and eyes bulging from their sockets, you just wanted them to shut the fuck up. Everything sucked, them, wearing the mask, Toby's lack of empathy for your plight, anger at yourself for coming on this dumb ass mission. Resentment for the twig spiking in you, **he** was why you were here. Telling Toby to kill people and in turn getting him too excited to drag you to the middle of nowhere to kill some random teenagers. You were just so angry, done with the situation, your constant self hate, giving into shitty morals for some dick, and the idiot you were feet away from screaming and crying. 

_**B A N G !**_

_"SSSTUH-STOP RUNNING LIKE TH-THAT! MY AH-AIMS NOT THAT GUH-GOOD!_

_**B A N G !**_

_"GAHAHAHA! NEVER MUH-MIND!"_

More semi-distant laughter ringing through the air. He was having the time of his life over there, with _you_ _r gun._ All the cracks of bullets being fired was good for was another shot of pure fucking rage. Though the gasping cry from the retreating figure was pretty good. The stupid little idiot was scared, worrying for their friends or family. Good. They deserved to feel so mortified after making you run after them like this. Why couldn't they just see that you were supposed to be an observer? Why did they have to run from you? They were making you work and they were going to pay for it. 

You didn't think about your actions, you just moved. Forcing yourself forward in a tackle. Your shoulder dug into their side as they screeched in surprise. The two of you fell through the air so fast that you hardly registered the feeling of it, your feet off the ground and throwing as much of your body weight you could onto them. Slamming into the mud with a ' _thud'_ , they cried out of the shuddering impact. 

You landed partially laying on their back, a bit of wind being forced from you. It hurt, it sucked, this was their fault for fucking running, Toby's fault for asking for the gun, yours for giving it to him. You just kept on moving, pushing yourself up, shifting above them while they tried to scramble away on their stomach. Two hands snatched the back of their shirt right below their neck. With a grunt of effort you swung the scrawny fuck to the side as they pushed themselves to their hands and knees. Screaming.

Jumping onto their back, forcing all of your weight onto him had them falling flat into the mud with a wet slap. Their face dipped into the cold water as they fell, your legs framing their side as you sat on their back. " _No! Please!"_

Rational thought out the window, feral rage and adrenaline was all that was left. The concoction of dangerous emotions mixed into both of your hands harshly snatching the back of their head. Yanking their head back by fist-fulls of hair, " _STOP!"_

_**"SHUT THE FUCK UP, PUSSY!"**_ The screaming command ripped itself from your vocal cords, laced with absolute rancor. It didn't even sound like you, hateful, uncontrolled, vengeful over nothing. Your pushed them down with all the strength you had, enhanced by the frantic blood boiling anger in your veins. 

Their cry of desperation was ceased by the loud splash of their face being plunging into the cold water. Some of it coming up from the once still surface to cool down your overheated flesh. In their panic they didn't take a gasping breath before you forced their head down, the idiot practically begging you to kill them. The waste of oxygen was thankfully screaming into the water, body wriggling beneath your and limbs desperately flailing. You held them firm as their body squirmed and writhed, worm. 

Though you were filled with adrenaline, so were they. They pushed their upper body up from the cold water, coughing and gasping as you tried to push them down to no avail. 

_**B A N G !**_

_"SSSKUH-SQUIRM FOR ME!"_

The gunshot ricocheting through the trees and Toby's excited yell had you growling, pulling their head up only to use the height to shift your weight into your arms as much as you could. Forcing them into the water and pushing their face into the mud, smothering them in filth while depriving them of air. 

They squirmed, all because of you. They made you angry and now look where they were. Pathetically writhing, pounding their fists into the ground like a toddler throwing a tantrum. God, you were just trying to drown them. Some people.

Your ears strained themselves to take in every little sound, muffled screams, gurgles, slashing water, the mud sloshing under their flailing limbs. Your eyes trained on the back of their head, trying to swivel and lift out of the water but held down by your iron grasp. All of it taken in, greedily satiating your hungry need for vengeance. Finally getting to take your anger out on someone more powerless than you, getting to see them try and fail to escape. You had complete control of the situation for once. 

If you deemed it you could let them go, let them loose, let them possibly escape, you held Toby's punishment in your hands and it had them quivering. You had power over him but you were being merciful enough to take care of it for him. Sure, you loved the shit out of him and you'd do _anything_ to keep him safe but the idea was filling you with drunk sadistic power. You weren't laughing and excessively taunting, but you just reveled in your victory. Not a small one. A complete triumph over another human being, no weapons required, just hands and water. 

Heart thumping, raggedly heaving over them, clammy hands, you continued to make the choice to hold them down. The thing about drowning somebody is that the death takes some time. You can't get cold feet halfway through, you have to commit. Watch them squirm hear their lungs force them to take a gasp, body so desperate for air but all they got with a mouthful of water. You could only imagine how badly it hurt, lungs burning but they were still conscious to feel the liquid be sucked into them, blood vessels bursting and every nerve firing off in panic. It must be pure agony. Good. They deserved this.

They went limp, but it wasn't over. Letting out a shuddering breath, you continued to hold their head down even though they were unconscious, unable to struggle. Still chasing the feeling of power, to win over something that could fight back. Wasn't killing them supposed to be the best part? Why was the feeling draining away from you now that they couldn't move? You had completely dominated them and they were done for. You didn't need to hold them down anymore. The job was done. You could leave them here, let their unconscious body take care of killing them for you while trying to breathe. 

Yet you didn't move. A silence settled over you, the water grew still.

_What have you done?_

Your eyes were bone dry, you blinked once, then twice. Had you not blinked the entire time? Were you that intent on watching them drown? Your hands slowly unclenched their hair, wet and thin. Your hands were shaking, was it from the adrenaline rush? Did this make you happy? Their death was used as a reprieve, letting your walls of mental self preservation fall in the heat of the moment. You intended to keep it together, let Toby take care of it. You were sprung into action by yourself and yourself alone, he probably could have caught them after dealing with the others. In the moment you didn't believe that though, you shoved rational thought aside. Did you make an excuse to chase somebody, to kill somebody with your bare hands? Couldn't be, it was just a spur of the moment thing, it just happened. You didn't want this.

You could not deny the harsh pulsating of your heart in your chest, the keen sense of victory, of power. You didn't feel bad at all, in fact, you felt fantastic. In turn, that made you feel horrible. You were prepared to kill somebody again but you were not mentally prepared to feel the rush of animistic rage, the thrill of the hunt.

_Where the fuck did that come from?_

Was this **his** plan? **His** influence? Subtly manipulating things? Yet you felt no static buzz, things didn't just fall so easily into your lap, you didn't have to chase them in actuality. Even if Toby was punished, he'd be fine in the end, crying and hurt, but eventually fine. This was on you. 

Monster. 

At the very least you knew what you were. The disgust was building up in your gut, self hate bubbling forth, this wasn't the twink's doing but this was what it wanted wasn't it? You weren't broken though, you'd be fine. No you fucking wouldn't be because this is what they wanted too. They wanted you to accept your circumstances, be numb to killing but if you enjoyed it then it'd just be a bonus.Tim might give you a pat on the back for killing someone and feeling the rush of what you hoped wasn't dopamine and defiantly adrenaline. Brian might laugh softly at the words you growled at the poor fucker. Calling them a pussy for being reasonably terrified. 

You couldn't do this. You couldn't be here anymore. You wanted to go home. 

It didn't matter if you had to walk through the woods all night, you wanted to go home, shower, then fuck off for ten hours in a random direction. 

Would they even comfort you in your distress over the rush? Would they encourage it, enable the beast that lurked under your human skin? They cared about you, they wanted what was best for you. What was best for you in your eyes would be comforting you, hold you and tell you it'd be okay. In their eyes it'd be comfort mixed with telling you that it's okay to enjoy it, that you should give in to their sick coping mechanism. They knew that'd get a negative reaction from you though, a setback in your relationship. Were they willing to put it as risk just so you'd give into the idea of being a serial murderer for the rest of your life with them, under the eldritch mcfuck's thumb? 

Your world felt upside down. Nothing felt certain. You just wanted to get out of here. Toby was your ticket home, knowing how to navigate back to the house, probably.

The mud squelched under your sneakers as you stood, knees quaking as the rush made its exit. All that was left was you and your hateful thoughts. There was also the body laying face first in the lake. You wondered if they were still alive, unconscious and body struggling to stay alive. It didn't matter if they were though, they'd be dead soon enough, unable to push themselves from the water. Too much of it in their lungs already, nothing could save them.

You felt nothing for them, their loss of everything they could have been. They could have been great, saved lives, made people's faces light up, not anymore. 

**_B A N G !_**

_"WHOOHOO!"_

You turned, mud trying to suck your feet down. Toby was enjoying himself, still on his high. Lifting your feet from the entrapment of sticky mud, you began walking back the direction you came. The campfire still flickering in the distance. Toby was always chipper after the kill, affectionate even if he was soaked in blood. You wondered if you'd be able to stomach your disgust for the red that was sure to be covering him. He understood the rush, embraced it when you could not. He was full of blood lust, craving other people's pain and agony. The rush was new and scary to you, though undeniably enjoyable, amazing, you felt the power of god in your hands. There was no power trip better than standing up the twig, but this was a close second. The rush was sickeningly sweet, if you wanted to feel this good again you'd have to kill more or antagonize the twink which had never proven to be the best idea. You told yourself you wouldn't do it again, feel the rush. Yet you couldn't control the way your body instinctually reacted to this sort of thing. The only rushed you hoped to feel in the future was in regard to besting The Operator. 

You made it back to the campfire, Toby wasn't there but the hand laying in the dirt was, the body mutilated in the tent. You looked away, you were used to it but you wanted to feel like you weren't. He'd run off but you didn't quite look where. You just wanted to go home, you didn't care if Toby was covered in blood or not. You were used to that, just not the rush.

"Toby?!" You called into the trees, looking for movement in the dim light. 

"Ove-over here!" Toby yelled back, to your right, not sounding too far. He must have almost immediately caught or immobilized them. He could have definitely caught the person you drowned, only solidifying the disgust you felt for yourself. Filthy animal. 

"You tuh-took too long!" He bubbly chided as you pushed past some shrubbery that had blocked your view of him.

What you saw was awful. The woman was laid on her back, limbs splayed every which way, deep gashes of bubbling red littering them. Holes in her shoulders, circular. Chest caved in, you could hardly tell what was what between the cloth of her torn blouse, blood, smashed bone. Her belly had another circular hole, another bubbling bullet wound. What really caught your eye was her neck, messy sawed into. A deep jagged cut, severed vertebrae, head completely lulled to the side, only a few inches of muscle connecting her head to her body. In death her muscles had somewhat relaxed but her mouth still hung open, tongue cartoonishly flopped out and light-less eyes staring walleyed at the ground. 

"You muh-missed all th-the fun!” You wished he wouldn't talk like that. Part of you had some sort of sick fun, you didn't miss it at all. You just hated yourself over it, not having anymore fun.

Their neck was a bloody fountain, just like Sully. You made yourself look away, thoughts of the dead boy more upsetting than the fresh corpse. 

Toby stood over another body, missing their lower legs. They had been thrown away from the body, one laying halfway out of a bush nearby. The other a few feet from their face which was now face down in the dirt. You wondered if they were still conscious when he cut their legs off, throwing one of the limbs in front of them to taunt them and show how helpless they were. There was an open cavity in their flesh where their right shoulder met their right arm, wide, pink, and pulsating. Shot point blank.

Toby himself was a giddy mess. Continuously rolling his head to his shoulder, snapping his shoulders back, letting out the occasional grunt between his giggles. He was high off that rush, he seemed to be able to ride it for hours. Brown hoodie splattered in viscous chunks of blood, the same went for everything else about him. Orange googles misted with it, the face mask that seemed like a grin had splotches of it, his hatchets weren't silver and brown anymore. He put Carrie White on prom night to shame, looking twice as unhinged and even happier with the outcome. 

He stepped over the body, padding over to you, swinging one hatchet by his side while bringing the other up hand and resting the other hatchet on the shoulder that didn't harbor his sideways head.

"I duh-don't ssssuh-see any blood on yuh-you. Did you luh-lose them?" He seemed to be surveying you as he approached. You felt small under his googled gaze, your comrade and tender lover, but he moved so slowly forward like he was stalking prey, like you were next on the kill count. You told yourself that wasn't how it was, he was so relaxed, smeared in liquid sin, coming toward you. 

You couldn't stop shaking, from the crime you'd committed, from the approaching danger, you wanted to get your shit together but you just couldn't. There were no words, you'd completely clammed up, rare for you but you just realized a part of you enjoyed killing people, a part of you was okay with taking out your frustrations on another human being. You just wanted to go home, walk side by side with the man who struck fear into your heart and then stole it. You just wanted to be held, forget about all of this even for a few moments, even if you were afraid, even if you hated yourself so much you didn't think that you deserved love.

"Aah," He was only a few away, the hair that poked out from under his hoodie looked greasy, "I guh-geddit." He was practically purring, seeming very satisfied, "I can tuh-tell by the wa-way that _you're fucking ssh-shaking._ " A huffy laugh that sent chills down your spine before his voice twisted into something deeper, almost a happy growl, " _You got'em guh-good didn't yuh-you, engel?"_

He came closer, pulling what you thought was another affectionate pet name out when he was covered in blood caught you off guard. A reminder of how sweet he could be but now he was the exact opposite, having just chopped up and put holes in three people. 

Did drowning somebody count as 'getting them good'? Was that brutal enough for him? It was free of blood and gore but you knew it was horribly painful.

He was right about one thing though, with your shock and terror, you were fucking quaking. His proximity only made it worse, you loved every part of him, even the ugly ones but this was something you saw so little of that you didn't know how you felt about it. Another face of the multifaceted man that you loved. You'd seen it before in more horrifying contexts, a peak of it when he held a hatchet to your throat and then you promptly made out with him. As you do when threatened. 

Your hands were quivering so badly you could have mistaken it for the sickening buzz that took over your body when **he** was around. This wasn't **his** work though, it felt damn close to it though. You watched with a shuddering breath and heart rate picking back up as he shifted the hand on his shoulder to pull down his face mask to his neck.

A devious smirk upon his lips, "Tell me," He brought his gloved hand to his googles and pulled them up into his ratty hair, "Everything." He looked overjoyed, pupils blown wide in sadistic ecstasy. 

You didn't want to talk about it, you wanted to go home but you were frozen in place. Standing so close to him, nothing stopping him from hurting you besides emotional ties. He wouldn't hurt you but that crazy look in his eye had you too scared to move. Thinking if you moved away that he'd chase you down.

At your lack of a response his smile didn't falter, he just let out a short laugh, his shoulders rolling in a tick. 

"Wh-what's wrong?" His voice didn't carry a hint on concern. Still holding his hatchet, two fingers peeling away from its handle and hooking around the chin of your mask. The fabric only brushed over your skin but you leaned into the touch, thirsty for comfort, any kind of contact with him even if your heart was pounding with panic. Pushing your mask up and into your hair, he snickered, hot breath ghosting over your face, "Are you ssskuh-scared?"

You'd proven to have a sizable masochistic streak but you didn't think it'd ever get this bad. He just killed three people, covered in bits of viscera, smiling about it, but his smile always made your heart skip a beat. You were fucked. 

"Toby, I know you won't hurt me." You spoke shakily, not sounding very convinced of your own sentiment. You knew your eyes were wide, taking him in with a soft terror, lips quivering. Every time you glanced at his, curled into a grin, you felt comfort in knowing you'd kissed before. A flimsy proof in your head that he wouldn't hurt you. "I'm not scared of you."

You looked away from him and to the darkening forest, "The missions over we should head ba-ACK!"

Your back was roughly pushed up into a tree, looking away had been the wrong move. A sign of submission to him, an advantage to take. The sudden force was dizzying, bark digging into your back. Pressing his torso into yours so hard that you could feel the loaded gun in his hoodie pocket, you hoped to god that the safety was on. There was something else pressing into you, a cold blade held right to your throat while there was another pressed into your cheek, just a bit more pressure and he'd break the skin. 

You reared your head back as far as the tree behind you would allow as he huffily chuckled, keeping the blades to your skin as you moved back. Just like the last time he'd done it, you believed, more like hoped, that he wouldn't hurt you. Slice your jugular and let you bleed yourself dry. Adrenaline was peaking back into your system, muscles tensing under him. Yet the part of you that reveled in human comfort told you that this was fine. That part of you was far gone, but wasn't most of you at this point?

" _Are you ssuh-sure about that?"_ Toby huskily growled, letting the hatchet that traced the skin of your cheek to lightly sink into your flesh. It hurt, a sharp stinging and warmth bubbling up from the wound as you felt a soft whimper leave your lungs. Cut capillaries letting pinpricks of blood seep from the cut as he pulled the hatchet from your flesh, leaving it pounding as your body rushed to fix the damage. 

It wasn't a grievous wound, it was nothing compared to what he'd done to the people on the ground. Bodies still bleeding into the dirt. Still not fucking cool to cut you though. It didn't shake you, your uncertainty, the same you expressed when he'd chased you down. Adrenaline rush the same, another high that you hadn't counted on. You felt scared but great, you hated yourself but you wanted to drown out your sorrows into somebody else. Use human contact as a vice.

It was truthful and you knew it'd get him going, " _I don't know."_

At those words he leaned in close, shifting his head, stubble brushing by your lower cheek as he opened his mouth with a low laugh. Something wet and warm dragged itself over your cheek, slowly, a dull burning sensation accompanying it. It was intimate human contact though, this was fine, a pleasant shiver running down your spine. Pulling his tongue away from your cheek he kept on moving his head skin brushing passed yours. A quiet growl, " _Good."_

You took in a sharp breath, not expecting to feel the sharp sliding of cold metal lightly pressing into the side of your neck. Thinly sliding passed every layer of skin, opening your throat just barley before the hatchet was pulled away. A much tamer version of what he'd done to the dead woman. It only lightly stung where you were sure her death was agonizing. Yet here you were, throat lightly grazed and just fine. Scared but he didn't continue, he was just fucking with you. 

You had the mental capacity to tell him to fuck off and leave you alone, but all you wanted was comfort. If this was how he wanted to be affectionate, then so be it. You didn't give a shit about the bodies anymore, they were dead and gone anyway. They wouldn't comfort you in a weirdly sadistic manner that you were hoping would melt away into something a little less stabby and more into holding and kissing you. Though you wouldn't deny the fact that you'd proven to like this sort of thing, you'd take whatever he threw your way.

He moved once more, shifting his head down, warm lips pressing into your neck. You let out a laugh, it kinda tickled with his stubble, "Practiced more on your pillow, huh?" Pushing the words that were more casual was a bit of a challenge. You'd never liked to completely back down, you were trying to gather yourself, feel more in control.

"Th-think I got it duh-down." He mumbled pleasantly into your neck. Were you terrified at your capacity to feel a rushing high when you killed people? Yes. Were you going through a lot right now? Yes. But you couldn't help but chuckle at the thought of the cold blooded murderer pinning you to a tree, sucking on his pillow.

"Alright," You echoed your words from the mall as two soft ' _thunk'_ s sounded, "Show me."

You glanced down at your feet, bloody hatchets lay forgotten on the forest floor. He wasn't going to actually hurt you, called it. You were fine, this was fine, you were more in control of this situation than you thought. Maybe. All you knew was that seeing those hatchets on the ground and calling him on his shit made you feel better about yourself, smarter and in control. 

The light cut idly throbbed in pain while soft lips pressed into it, once, twice, before parting and making a soft vacuum on your throat. You hummed, nice. Much better then being bitten into like a piece of meat. Technically as a human you were made of meat but a kind of meat that shouldn't be eaten. Kinda like Sully.

Once more there was a wet warmth touching your skin, the tip of a tongue flicking past the just barley bleeding wound that he caused. Again, it stung. Human saliva wasn't the best thing to have in open cuts, often causing them to grow infected if left uncleaned and untreated. If you had to go to Brian after this for an infection, you'd be so mad. 

Despite the possibility of that, it felt nice. He actually had learned from you, though he was sucking on your neck like he was trying to inhale you. At least it was better than before and the mild pain was nice. It was an act of affection from another human being, one who could relate to having just killed somebody. You felt loved in a twisted sort of way, but love was love no matter where it came from. 

Then he bit into you, hands suddenly gripping your waist, a firm hold, one that told you he wasn't going to let go. Good, you wanted to be held, you didn't want him to stop touching you. He quickly nipped at the flesh that he'd been abusing, a jolt of diluted agony sprung forth from your neck. You let out a sigh, it was relieving to feel pain with an obvious underlying pleasure, only a human could feel like this. You weren't a monster, you were just some idiot getting a hickey in the woods near a campsite. Just like all those shitty slasher movies except you were in no real danger.

Your hands brought themselves to his shoulders, they rolled back while he just kept on on sucking, licking, and biting. It'd been going on awhile, it hurt but that's not why you wanted to push him back. You wanted something else, something stronger to drown your muddied thoughts into. At the suggest to pull back, he released your throat. Throbbing and moist with saliva, gross but nice.

"Sssuh-so?" Face before you once more, brows raised as he asked you coyly how he did.

"Pretty good." You felt on more even grounds with him asking for your approval, caring about if you were having as much of a good time as he was having. "Ya'know what would also be pretty good?" One of your hands removed itself from his shoulder, idly dragging down his side. You had an idea for a fun little power play, something to catch him off guard.

His hands traveled up your sides, lazily following the curve of your body. Being caressed was nice even if his grip made you feel like he was tempted to crush your bones in under his hands. He could do whatever the fuck he wanted to you. He could hurt you without punishment from the twig. He could kill you with a horrible punishment, but he could still do it. Safety wasn't guaranteed. Part of you wanted him to feel like that, like he was in some sort of peril, even if it wasn't actually there. Nothing you could do to him physically would hurt him, he'd be fine no matter what but you wanted him to feel it too. 

Blown out irises flickered to your lips as your hand continued to make a beeline for the gun. Not to be one upped, his hands continued their wandering, sliding down this time, resting on either side of your thighs.

"Wh-what?" He spoke like he wasn't asking you to answer, it was more like a demand. You'd show him.

**NSFW Begin**

"If I gave you a taste of your own medicine." Lips curled into a smirk but voice a low growl, your hand on his hip. You just needed to reach around his front to get the gun.

Just as your hand started to slide toward his hoodie pocket where you believed the gun to be, he laughed, "Sss-so you're ju-just gonna grab my duh-dick?" 

"What?" You wheezed, hand ceasing its movement. Resting between both of your lower stomachs. "That's the gun." You matter-a-factly pointed out.

"Th-the gun is in my buh-back pocket. Why wuh-would you need the guh-gun?" Annoyed at your intentions that didn't match up with his but still sounding amused at your fat mistake.

"Oh my god! Toby I'm so sorry." You blurted out, embarrassed. It was a complete misunderstanding that had your brain scrambling to make an apology and explain yourself. 

"Wh-what did you muh-mean by give me a tuh-taste of my own medicine, huh?" Toby tilted his head, piecing together your intent to one-up him and ignoring the apology. He didn't mind the idea of you grabbing his dick, just pulling a gun on him. He was dangling the awkwardly failed idea right in front of you. The not-gun was still pressing into your upper thigh. His hands still gripping you and pinning your back to the tree. 

"Uhhh." God. You didn't make any moves to leave, you didn't tell him to stop, your hands still on him. You were going in for a smooch with a hint of weird power play but this could turn into something more. Something that could completely take your mind off it. Even though your brain was already completely off the topic of what you'd done. You just knew that you felt shitty and Toby was here, he could make you feel less shitty, "Show you what's what, ya'know?" An awkward laugh pushed itself out of you, though you knew what you wanted, it didn't make it any less embarrassing that you thought the man's hard on was a fucking gun. 

Oh, he had a hard on you realized. It had to have been the adrenaline rush of going ape shit on another human being mixed with his attraction to you. On a chemical high of power with someone else to ride it out on, but in a way that wasn't chopping them up.

"You ssh-show me?" The idea was a joke to him, something to mildly entertain but not take seriously, his eyebrows shooting up skeptically. You had a feeling if you did get the chance to pull the gun on him that he'd probably laugh it off. "That's cute." 

You were tempted to move your hand around his body, grab the gun out of his ass pocket and put it to his head. It probably wouldn't do jackshit though, as he wasn't intimated by you in the slightest. It just made you want to do it more, even if it was fruitless. In your hesitation you kept your hand where it was, low on his stomach and way too close to his dick.

"Yeah." Trying and failing to sound confident in your choices, "Make you feel the way I do."

His hands harshly grabbing hold of your legs, a mischievous grin on his lips, "And hah-how do you feel?" He was picking up what you were unintentionally putting down, that you were grossly into it. He wanted to hear you say it though, spell it out so he could continue. You'd given him nonverbal cues but he wanted one now before things got too hot an heavy to make sure that you were okay with it. He may be unhinged but at least he had a concept on consent. 

"Toby, I'm not gonna lie to you." You were probably hysterical, manic, off the chain, "I'm scared shitless but I feel great and you should kiss me." No more chatter, you just wanted to be consumed by physical contact, comforting. Also, kinda hot. 

"Ju-just letting you know," He leaned forward, fingers digging further into you as he purred out, "You can grab th-the gun if you wa-want to." 

"Are you talking about your dick or the actual fucking gun?" Either option sounded fine to you but you'd appreciate some clarification if he meant it literally or was making a joke at your mistake.

Wheezing out a genuine laugh that cut through the thick tension for a few moments. His shoulders rolled back as he informed you, "My dick, _ssson-sonnenblümchen_."

Well, that was forward, but all of Toby's advances had been very painfully forward, you didn't mind. You decided that you should follow his example and be just as straight forward as he was being.

"And you can grab whatever the fuck you want." Retorting with the same joking tone but still being completely serious.

The laughter was replaced with his voice, possessive and husky, "Well yeah, I expect to be ah-able to gruh-grab what's mm-mine." He didn't actually own you, he was just getting really into the whole scenario. Obvious by the hardness pressing into your thigh. And you did not mind at all, the remark making you shiver.

You were going to shoot back some soft of word play but lips were slammed into yours. You didn't mind not being able to get the last word in, humming while you tilted your head to make this kiss less janky. He didn't want to go slow as always, his mouth was open pretty much on impact. Lips not being in complete tandem, moving haphazardly fast. It was sudden and dizzying, but not bad at all. Everything fell away but him, there was no problem to be thought of. 

There was a hint of your own blood on his tongue when he practically shoved his tongue into your mouth. Riled up and high on adrenaline. You liked that, the blood was a reminder of what he could do but wouldn't. He was in control physically, but you had him so tightly wound around your finger that he would't do anything to actually hurt you. Yet again, you were drunk on the power, this time it was more wholesome and not murder happy. 

His hands wandered to the backs of your thighs just to push them forward, a suggestion to let him move them for you. His gloves were wet with blood, some of it soaking into your clothes. You happily obliged, shifting your feet wider apart and in turn he lifted your legs while further pressing himself into you. Using his body weight to hold you to the tree. The tree bark dug harshly into your back but you were far too preoccupied with your shifting position to care. Toby guided your legs to frame his hips, firmly pressing his hips into yours. Wrapping your lower legs around his back, subconsciously squeezing him with them to try and steady yourself with the lack of ground beneath your feet.

Two layers of thick denim separated the growing heat in your groan and the hardness that lightly ground against it with the movement. It was barely any friction but for what little of a feeling it was, you liked it. You wanted more touch, more friction, you knew just how to get it. The hand you'd rested on his shoulder moved into his hair as the two of you were enraptured in the act of making out. Quickly finding the back of his head, you tore his hood down. Seeming to know where you were going with this, he growled into your lips, low approval. Tangling your fingers into his hair, you quickly closed it into a fist and tugged it back. His head wasn't moved in the slightest but he did rut into you. A rough and dragging force, the pleasant pressure had you moaning into his mouth. 

Your hands in their hair, their head being forced into the water, their gurgled screams. You completely forgot about it.

Toby's hands removed themselves from the bottoms of your thighs, not needing to support you when his torso was pinning you firmly to the tree and you had yourself wrapped around him. You pulled on his hair once more, telling him to put his hands back on you. You needed more touch than you were receiving. You needed it or you'd be pulled back to reality. Grinding into you once more with a moan, he'd yet to find a place where he wanted to put his hands. 

You'd take the first step then. Bodies being flushed so firmly together made it hard but with your hand trying to inch lower, Toby moved back just enough to allow for faster movement. Impatient and wanting. With the window of opportunity open, your hand slid your hand down the wet fabric of his hoodie. A reminder that something was very wrong here, what you were doing was wrong. Then your hand reached the bulge in his pants and you completely forgot. The second your hand even just barley touched him, he thrust himself back into you with a groan. 

While pulling back to breathe and adjust his position, he spoke, "You don't understand hah-how fuh-fucking long I've wan-wanted," He jerked his head to the side with a grimace, "Tuh-to do th-this." He pulled back his upper torso for earlier access, looking to your chest. He wasn't looking very long until a hand was on either one of your breasts, gripping them way too tightly. It felt like they were water balloons about to burst, he really did not understand the concept of being gentle or subtle when it came to touching. His fingers loosened, thank god, then they immediately squeezed, It was very nineteen year old virgin of him to do. Not really understanding that putting your hands around somebody's breasts and harshly groping them wasn't the sexiest thing in the world.

You didn't feel like being his personal sex-ed teacher at the moment though, reveling in any kind of touch, still groaning into him at the contact. You mentally shrugged it off and put a pin in it for later. One thing you wouldn't put off though, was the fact that you were touching a part of his clothed hard on. You had so much power at your fingertips, you were gonna use it. 

You threw his words back in his face, "Do you have any idea how long I've wanted to do this?"

Unlike Toby you understood you can't just grab at someones body parts as hard as you could to get a good reaction. Then, you just barley groped him, a quick slight squeeze. In turn he gripped your titties like they were fucking bowling balls, ouch. The consolation prize to that pain was him grinding into you once more, the friction hard and had your nerves going ape shit. The best part though was his face. Mouth falling open and rolling out a growl of a moan, his already flushed cheeks, a competitive glint in his eye. Now you'd done it but it was completely purposeful and you were down to clown.

" _Cuh-come here_ _."_ That was all you heard before his lips were back onto yours, too hard and having the back of your head slam into the tree. 

_Shuffle, shuffle._

You shrugged off the rustling, the two of you were in the middle of the woods after all. The only thing you paid any real attention to was his tongue wrestling yours and lightly groping him once more. Earning you a groan and more friction, getting even more lost in him. You tugged on his hair, another instance of him slamming his hips into yours. For a second you wondered if it'd hurt but then you remembered he can't feel pain. Anyway, you groped his dick again, moving your fingers roughly over his clothed length.

_Shuffle, shuffle._

You hardly heard it over Toby moaning into your mouth. He continued to grind into you without you needing to grab at him. Mumble out whatever came to mind which was mostly him saying, "Fuck," or, "(Y/n)," or, "Again." The last one was always after you groped at him, a command that you happily obliged as with every little sound he made, every trust, and even grabbing your titties way too hard, it took you further away from reality.

_Shuffle, shuffle._

He pulled away from your buzzing lips, slick with saliva, him letting out soft pants and slamming his clothed hard on into you once more. You bucked into him, " _Toby_." At the wanton use of his name he looked shocked a moment before breaking out into a devious grin.

" _Sssuh-say that agh-again."_ He haughtily commanded, there was an undeniable undertone of desperation there. Something you could use to be a bit of a bastard.

_Shuffle, shuffle._

_"_ Make me." You tugged on his hair, earning you a grunt and a particularly rough thrust that had his hard on grinding directly into you. The idea of teasing him fell away as you willfully gave in, " _Toby."_

The breathily lewd use of his name coming from your mouth seemed to really get to him. Rutting faster into you, gripping harder at your breasts, you were catching onto what might be happening.

_Shuffle, shuffle._

He was gasping and panting, time between trusts decreasing, very interesting and very telling. Kissing was great and all but his neck was wide open, too unmarked for your liking, you wanted him to fall apart under your fingers. Surging forth and tilting your head, you placed light kisses on his neck, skin vibrating with his moans as your hand palmed over his length. Kissing turned into sucking on his flesh, lapping at it. Some of the strangers blood had misted onto his skin. A part of you became vaguely conscious about your circumstances.

_Shuffle, shuffle._

That was way too much sound, consistent and almost rhythmic.

 _"(Y-Y/n)."_ The way he deliciously purred out your name had your brain completely back on him. You moved up his neck, finding another spot to suck and nip at. Even though the mark would only last a matter of hours, it was still fun. It kept you on the high that you felt like you needed. Fuck clarity, it was time to give the murder rat hickeys.

With every patch of skin that you lightly abused, Toby only got faster with his trusts. Allowing himself to be as loud as he wanted, whimpering and babbling things like, " _God, I wanna fuh-fuck you sss-so bad,"_ Or repeatedly chanting, " _Yes,"_ Sometimes switching it up to, " _Fuh-fuck yes."_

Technically, the two of you could have sex if you wanted to. You were both ready and willing but the both of you had a mild understanding that it probably wasn't the hottest idea. You didn't exactly think to bring condoms on a mission to murder a bunch of people.

Wait.

_Shuffle, shuffle._

Though it was easy to get lost in the moment, the soft sound pulled you out of if. Removing your lips from his neck as his gasping moans started to crescendo, you glanced over toward the source of the sound. 

Back being shoved into the tree over and over in harsh beats, your name bubbling forth from his mouth over and over, the thing on the ground. You could just hardly made out the whites of their eyes as they stared at the scene before them, slowly dragging themselves along the forest floor. Unable to walk or run without their lower legs.

_Shuffle, shuffle._

 _"Toby."_ You gasped out his name, not in pleasure but in a horrible realization. 

_"(Y/n)!_ " He didn't register tremor in your voice, completely consumed by chasing his own high. Cracking moans, far too lewd for your liking when a legless target was staring at you in disgust and horror. They didn't want to see this after their friends had been brutally murdered, after their limbs had been slashed off. It all came crashing back to you, coming all at once.

_Shuffle, shuffle._

" _Fuck! Fuck! (Y/n)!"_ Toby was practically screaming into your ear, hips stuttering with one final trust. Hands gripping your breasts even harder than before, wet and warm with the blood of other people seeping into your hoodie. 

You weren't at the same level that he was. Hormones and need for touch falling to the wayside. It was nice in the moment but as your rush came to a crashing halt, you realized how fucking disgustingly unhealthy it was. Getting sexual after killing people to cope with killing people.

You felt absolutely vile for falling to easily into your addiction to touch once more. This was too far, too much even for a monster like you. You wanted a break from this, the excessive touch. You melted too easily into it and if given the chance you probably would again. Getting a high off chasing someone down then dry humping Toby in front of a dead body and a grievously wounded person had you feeling revolted at yourself. Toby was a part of that repulsive feeling but he was much further gone than you, this was just how he was. He didn't feel remorse in the slightest for anyone he'd killed but his mother. He didn't get the moral dilemma of creaming his jeans in front of a corpse. Being excitable, riled up, he got carried away so easily and you had to power to stop it whenever you wanted but instead you negligently ignored the sound of the person dragging their useless body across the forest floor. You let yourself fall into this, you could have told him to stop and he would have listened but instead, you wanted a rush of adrenaline and to be weirdly horny for awhile. You got it but you wanted him off of you. Touch feeling like acid burning through your clothes. It wasn't about him, it was about the idea and act of being touched. Loved on romantically and sexually. You didn't deserve it for what you'd just willingly given into for a few minutes of not feeling so shitty about yourself. 

**NSFW End. References to it after the fact.**

**Summary: Toby and (Y/n) get hot and heavy. (Y/n) forgets about her troubles for a short period. Through the encounter, a soft repetitive shuffling is heard by (Y/n) but ignored by Toby. As Toby gets his rocks off, (Y/n) finds the person with their lower legs chopped off is still alive and trying to crawl away. (Y/n) is disgusted at herself.**

Panting, hands relaxing but staying on your beasts, muscles relaxing. 

"Toby." You whimpered, eyes on the petrified face of the survivor. They started to move faster, writhing on the ground like a fleshy worm. 

_Shuffle, shuffle._

"Yes, engel?" There was that nickname, you assumed sickly sweet. He spoke it softly, no growl of possessiveness, no sadistic intent for pleasure, just affectionate care as he kissed your cheek sweetly. You didn't want to be loved right now. All that you could think about was going home, the survivors wide eyes, and the thrill of the hunt. You wanted to shower away the filth you felt on your skin but wasn't actually there. 

You weren't going to beat around the bush as you tore your hands away from him, realizing that you were still clinging to him. "There's someone still alive." Your voice didn't hold the same affection as his, a trembling croak. 

"Oh ssh-shit really?" He whipped around, hips still pressed into yours. "Oh fuck! My buh-bad! Sss-sorry (Y/n)." He took a hand off of your chest, the fabric of your hoodie following his hand for a second as the blood had somewhat dried, melding the fabric together. The fabric separated with a soft tear as he moved his hand to his back pocket. Pulling out the gun and pointing it in the direction of the survivor who was now scrambling in the dirt to try to get away. Only one of their arms properly working, the hold in their other arms shoulder had it dragging uselessly along in the dirt. They'd try to be slow and quiet with their escape while the two of you were distracted. Thing was, Toby was nineteen and a virgin, he was not built to last as long as they'd hoped. 

Oh god, one of the last thing's they'd ever see was you and Toby getting freaky. You wanted to puke out the pit of shame in your guts. 

"Please! I won't tell anyone what I saw!" They pleaded, making you feel even more vile at their accidental voyeurism. 

_**B A N G !**_

There was an explosion of dirt as the bullet buried itself into the ground a few inches behind the person. He missed. The recoil traveled through Toby's body, shuddering on your torso and legs, still wrapped around him. You grabbed the tree behind you for support instead of Toby, letting your legs slide off of his hips. The heat of embarrassment on your cheeks. Your feet finally hit the ground, Toby glanced away from the still living survivor and to you, looking concerned. You didn't want his sympathy, you didn't deserve it.

You looked away from his gaze, one of his hands still on your boob. Shuffling to the side with a cringe you just couldn't hide, finally free from being sandwiched between the tree and Toby's body. Eyes downcast to the ground, you got a view of your shirt. Two large red hand prints on either of your breasts, visual representations of your shame.

He made a small sound, like the beginning of a sentence, words of apology before his head snapped back to the shuffling of the survivor dragging themselves into a bush. 

_Click._

You knew that sound. Heard most often when you were in the clearing with Brian, taking potshots at empty cans. The gun was out of ammo and you didn't bring extra ammo. 

"Oh ssh-shit, sssh-shit, fuck. One ssuh-sec, (Y/n)." Toby turned and pressed the empty gun into your hands. You took it by its muzzle to avoid touching it's wet the blood handle, warm from his body heat. He bent over as quick as he could, spinning on his heels and raising the hatchet over his head.

So, you were just standing there, a strangers blood on your titties with nothing to say. This was your job after all, enjoy it or not, interruption of your good time or not, one of you had to kill them. Thankfully, Toby took up the mantle. Your brain was fried, you don't think you could take another kill tonight. The possibility of an intoxicating high was too real. You refused to chance it.

The hatchet flew from Toby's hand as they wiggled away, everything but their bloody stumps for knees had disappeared into the bush. 

**_Thunk!_**

The stumps jolted with the force before falling limp.

Toby rushed forward to retrieve his hatchet, no giddy laughter at the kill. He was preoccupied with you, you think he was worried for your sudden disinterest and aversion to his touch. Disappearing into the shrubbery, the leafs rustling with the movement, he called out, "They're duh-dead! It's oh-okay!" 

No, it's not.

He quickly reappeared with a hatchet, dully glistening, dripping. Jogging back over to you he asked, "You guh-good?" His irises were no longer blown out in ecstasy, there was no smile on his face. Thick brows furrowed and lips in a frown. 

"Let's go home." You didn't meet his eye once more. It wasn't entirely his fault, you weren't blaming him. There was just so much self hate and disgust running through you that you couldn't take the idea of being cared for by another human being. Even if that human being was human garbage but he was your human garbage, you loved him.

Bending over once more to grab his other hatchet which had lay forgotten in the dirt, Toby started to suggest, "Wh-why don't we ssstuh-stay the night at the ch-campsite and head back in the muh-morning? I know that you don't ruh-really get on tuh-too well in the d-"

You didn't give a shit if it was going to be pitch black in a few minutes, that you'd be tripping over rocks and roots all night. You wanted to be home as soon as possible. There was the option of letting him carry you home but you wouldn't allow it. You knew yourself, that you'd melt into the touch, finding easy comfort in it.

You deserved to hurt, you didn't deserve love.

" _I want to go home."_ You finally met his eye, stone faced and voice firm, " _Now."_


	47. 46 - Double Edged Sword

**NSFW Mentions**

**Suicide Mentions**

**Author's Note: We have a discord server now! For the Ao3 crowd, I'm just going to let you know the server has been around a few months. Since SYG ended ~4 months ago on our main site, we talk about our other fanfics there as well. Also CP X Readers. Everyone is lovely and we would adore to have you! Please read the rules when you enter. Introducing yourself is mandatory, doesn't have to be in depth just say hi![discord.gg/K9Up9Fh](https://discord.gg/K9Up9Fh)**

The walk home was absolutely hellish. Hours in the dark holding Toby by the forearm, too full of self hate to let yourself hold his gloved hand. He led you home, trying to talk, apologize, say that he could have sworn that they were dead. Communication. Work things out. That's what people in relationships do, that's what adults are supposed to do. It just reminded you over and over how disgusting you were, how much you thought you could act like a normal couple when you were _far_ from it. You allowed yourself to sink so deeply into love, into halfhearted acceptance of your situation until you could find some miracle solution. There was no regret for developing feelings and acting on them, you loved it, wanted it, needed it. Yet you didn't deserve it.

You had to keep telling him to just leave you be, quietly shake your head and avert your eyes from his worried expression. You could talk after you sorted your shit out. That shit being the new found thrill of the hunt, you had to zero in on the problem, hopefully find some way to never feel that way again. If you started to really enjoy it the way they did, escape would be further from your grasp. So you had to cut your flow of love and support off. They would accept you, understand you, encourage you to feel that way.

You excused them, the men you loved, of their crimes and only focused on yourself. Somehow creating a mental loophole that told you that _you_ were the worst. They'd felt the rush for years, enjoyed it, Toby seemed to crave it at times. 

A terrifying thought crossed your mind, if you accepted the rush and gave in, you could become a proxy without having to be completely broken, torn from love. You could live out the rest of your days begrudgingly under **him** but at least you'd enjoy your job, get to be with your boys forever. You could just give up, it'd be so much easier than fighting the strong current life had thrown at you.

No. _No. **No.**_

You'd gotten this fucking far. Backing down now was a pussy ass bitch move. Fuck the rush. You could beat it, never feel it again, it'd just strengthen your resolve. You'd learn from this and grow, you weren't going to give in no matter how much they urged you to. It's just another hurdle to jump, after almost every other hurdle you'd tripped and tumbled over. 

The sun had risen a few hours ago, yet it was still quite dim. Dark gray clouds tinted a slight purple hung heavy above the trees. Blocking out most of the light and threatening the two of you with an incoming storm. The second the cabin came into view in the soft morning light, you booked it. Letting go of Toby and not caring that he was running after you, it wasn't him chasing you down for the fun of it, it was him trying to get you to talk to him. The lunatic, slathered in blood trying to talk to you, another lunatic slathered in slightly less blood. 

You burst into the house, mask in one hand and gun in the other. 

"(Y/n)! Wh-wait!" Toby pushed open the closing door, entering into the kitchen behind you. 

Brian's head snapped over to the both of you, filling the coffee machine with water. Tim was nowhere to be seen, probably still in bed since there was no coffee ready for him yet. As you stormed past Brian, Toby hot on your heels, you could see the gears turning in his head. Your stony face, Toby's desperation, bloody hand prints on your titties. Something was up and he knew it. Damn intuitive bastard.

A hand just barley brushed your shoulder before it stopped, he knew better than to try to stop you. You continued your march out of the kitchen while looking over your shoulder, Brian had grabbed Toby's hand. The boy looking like a kicked puppy and Brian didn't seem to know what the fuck was going on, but he had an inkling that you needed some time to think. 

"Bruh-Brian!" Toby whined as you continued your crusade into the living room, turning into the hall. You weren't particularly sweaty or that smelly, you just felt absolutely filthy. The targets wide eyes and disgusted gaze lingering in your minds eye. You couldn't imagine what they were thinking. A friend, family member, or lover horribly chopped up beside them, legs half gone, and the one responsible for it dry humping into someone they could only assume was the killer of the person who they'd probably heard screaming for you to stop. It was vomit inducing to think about being in their shoes. You couldn't imagine seeing that then getting a hatchet to the dome. Toby had told you that he got them right between the eyes, like that made it any better. 

He was just trying to make you feel better the only way he understood how. He didn't mean to further upset you, he was trying incredibly hard and it weakened your resolve. You were so close to caving, telling him it wasn't his fault, that you loved him, that you weren't angry at him, you just hated yourself so much that you didn't think that you deserved him or the others. Being the stubborn mcfuck that you were, you held firm, didn't tell him shit, didn't wrap your arms around him and cry. Distance was what you needed until you could be absolutely sure that the rush wouldn't take hold of you once more, you would not enjoy killing. If it wasn't there anymore then you could tell them about it, tell them you beat it. Maybe they'd be inspired to try and beat it too, but that was wishful thinking and you were getting ahead of yourself.

The only situation you'd feel that way again was if you were in a scenario that you'd be chasing down and killing another person. An unsavory situation where rational thought was incredibly easy to throw out the window. You'd have to go through the scenario at least multiple times and not feel a single hint of the sickenly giddy sense of victory. It was a tall order and a lot of time distancing yourself from the boys. Could you even do that? You were somebody that needed love, needed to vent about your problems. You knew you wouldn't be able to hold it in long, but on the other hand you felt the great desire to hide it. If they knew they'd try to cultivate that feeling, get you to give into the dreary thought of submitting to **him**.

You were stuck between a rock and a hard place. 

The water was getting colder and colder, your fingertips getting pruned. You don't know how long you'd been under the stream of water but it didn't help. Your flesh itself was free of any bits of dried blood that seeped through your clothes but you still felt dirty. It was like an itch you couldn't seem to scratch, an unseen layer of grime over your skin that didn't go away no matter how hard you rubbed away at yourself. (S/c) skin growing raw and irritated. Especially the deep purple and red bruises around both your titties, angrily throbbing at their abuse that had occurred only a few hours before. Looking at them made you feel sick, you wanted to scrub at them until they went away, tears pricking at your eyes at the pain.

You didn't want to leave but you did at the same time. 

The kitchen was empty now besides you. The boys had sat themselves in Tim's room. It was nice of Brian to give you space and have time for him, Tim, and Toby to talk about the mission but that could led to them asking questions. Though if Toby was as shameless as he was last night, they could be led the to the conclusion that you were just pissed about dry humping in front of a dead body and a legless target. The thing about Tim and Brian though, is that they understood some of the nuances of your plight. It wouldn't take them long to put two and two together that it wasn't just that. You were a very touchy and clingy person, the sudden long term distance would be suspicious. 

That's why you had a bit of a plan. Take as many walks as possible, avoid them all the time until the rush went away. Sleep on the couch, eat meals outside, preoccupy yourself with walking Goober. Though you weren't going to take him out right now. Even before you opened the front door your could hear it, the heavy rain on the roof, the dull roar of distant thunder.

Going outside was a bad idea but you didn't care.

The open door only made the ' _fwoosh'_ of the rain slamming onto the dirt even louder, the wind almost pulling the door out of your hands. You'd be instantly soaked to the bone. Your clothes weren't water proof and they didn't cover much either. A sweater with a little clown on it wouldn't protect you from the rain. Maybe the rain could help, maybe cover up your tracks so they couldn't follow you. You could probably find shelter under a tree or something, this would be fine. 

This was not fine. 

Even though you sat under a tree, its thick branches and leafs didn't block out all the rain. Though it wasn't slapping itself onto your entire body, it was still dripping on your head, you were still freezing as the breeze. Sat in the mud, back to the tree, hugging your knees to your chest.

Part of you told you to head back, your iron will could handle some questioning right? There was doubt there, you'd cave to familiar and warm touch. Tell them everything and let them hold you and comfort you. Make you feel like a good person, like you weren't disgusting and despicable and worthy of love.

You were doing your best to not think about how you were shivering, teeth chattering, and bouncing your feet for a spark of warm friction that just wouldn't spark. You pulled your head from your knees, trying to get a glance at the sky to see if the storm would be letting up anytime soon. What clouds you could see told you that the storm wasn't going to be letting up in the slightest for a long time. Dark gray and ready to pour rain onto the earth for hours. This sucks.

You brought your gaze from the sky and to the expanding forest ahead with a sigh. You let your eyes lazily look at the wood, tall trees, long and gangly. Fat droplets somewhat distorting your view, making it hard to completely focus, blinking rapidly as water dribbled into your eyes. 

You didn't think there were any birch trees out here. Wait, weren't birch trees supposed to be completely white with black markings? Not black leading up to one area of white.

Though you may have not been the biggest tree expert in the world, you didn't think any trees looked like that. There was only one thing you'd ever seen that looked like that. Further looking at the thing, focusing at much as you could on its form squinting and glaring through the rain. The white oval that was its distant head, the long strands of black leading to spindly white, hands. It was **him**.

" _What!?"_ You snarled, voice a cracking yell that was partially muted by a roll of thunder. " _What the fuck do you want? Huh?"_ You pushed yourself up from the mud, it coldly sticking to your ass. Nothing like standing up to an eldritch entity while looking like you shit your pants.

You didn't _know_ anything. It wasn't in your head when you know it could be if it wanted to be. it just wanted to taunt you.

Why is it showing itself? Did **he** know about the rush, that you enjoyed killing someone? Or about the spark of the idea in your head to give up, sink into **his** grasp?

"(Y/n)!" Tim?

"(Y/n)?" Brian?

You didn't look in the direction of their voices, your eyes were glued to the thing that ruined your life, their lives, the thing you hated the most. 

It was indirectly letting you know that it told your boys where you were, that it led them to you. That you couldn't hide from **him** and that the men that you loved are tied to **him**. You couldn't tell if this was to tear your bonds apart by putting your stubborn yet conflicted mind under the influence of their words or to have you grow closer to them in order to give up your delusions of freedom.

They were coming to console you, talk to you, communicate like proper adults. Make it better even if they didn't know exactly what was wrong. It let them know where you are so they could do that. Why? 

To make it easier for you to give in? It didn't have to force you away from love, it could drown you in it. Use your strength against you. It was a driving force for you but it could use that. Have them find out about the rush, have them console you and tell you it's okay to feel that way. The words of people you loved and relied on could break down your resolve. It was hoping that you'd give into affection like you always did, give into it. 

It didn't have to be sadistic, it could grant you the mercy of joining if you just gave up now. Somewhat smooth things over between the two of you. It allowing you to live, laugh, love, and you giving your life to it, give up you struggle, stop putting ideas into the boys heads of escape. You could both get what you wanted. **He** was in business attire after all, a compromise that favored **his** side shouldn't be a surprise.

_"Fuck off!"_ You raggedly screamed into the cold air, wind cutting a chill through your soaked clothes. It was mostly directed at **him** , standing silent and watching. Coyly reminding you that it was the puppet master, you were just a meat puppet with no will to cut the strings that bound you to its long fingers, it knew you had no will to cut yourself off from your boys. You knew it too. 

There had to be a loophole. You knew you couldn't keep it up forever. Maybe lean into their love but deny their encouragements? Ignore it and act like it didn't happen.

There was no tilt of its head, no teleporting to you, no buzzing control over your body, it let you be. It was just there to let you know what it knew, let you know that it was changing up its tactics, it was going to make you give in. Time was running out. 

The scream you let rip into the air was muted somewhat by the pouring rain but not enough for the boys. They already knew where you were but your screaming only egged them on to move faster. Your words were somewhat directed at them but you knew it was halfhearted, you wanted to be alone to think but you wanted people too. Yet affection was like a sweet poison, tastes so good but hurts so bad. 

"(Y/n)!" Tim called out once more, sloshing footfalls growing louder. "What the fuck are you doing out here?!"

Sure, you went on long walks often getting yourself lost or fucked up. However, this time you didn't even bust your leg or eat a man, you just yelled at an entity that could completely fuck you up. 

"Hey! Idiot!" He called out once more as you continued to stare at the thing in the distance. It had no eyes but you had a feeling it was staring back.

Boot falls in mud, coming closer and closer. Huffing and puffing, like they'd ran as fast as they could to get to you before something bad happened. What they didn't know is that something bad already happened, not what Toby had likely told them about. It was the rush of killing. Them coming closer to console you was a continuation of the bad shit, falling into the tall fuckers plans. Coming to bog down your will to fight. 

You'd yet to look at them as their footfalls slowed to a jog, then slid to a stop. The watery mud at your feet sloshing over your already drenched sneakers as they now stood beside you.

Brian didn't sound apathetic, he wasn't angry with you, he sounded concerned, as the doctor of the house and as the mother hen that he was, "Come on, let's get you back home." You didn't look to him, you just kept your hateful gaze on the thing in the distance. 

It was gone.

With their presence, it disappeared. Image not simply blocked out by the sheets of rainwater that fell from above, but it completely disappeared. That didn't mean that it was completely gone. Those who came to carry out its will were here in it's place. You preferred them over it but at the end of the day they were still like extensions of itself. Unattached limbs carrying out its work.

You wouldn't go, submit to what it wanted, ignoring the fact that this is what they wanted. Wanting you to be safe inside, warm and dry, not catching a horrible cold. "No."

"What do you mean 'no'?" You looked away from the forest, there was nothing to stare at besides trees. Tim was soaked just like you were, dark hair sticking to his forehead, mild irritation mixed with concern. His hand held out to you. The hand of someone who was so adverse to physical touch, offering it up to you and taking a step out of his comfort zone because he was so worried for you. Knowing that you thrived on touch, knowing if he offered it you'd take the change to hold his hand and let him lead you home. 

"I mean that I'm staying out here." You crossed your arms over your chest, tightly hugging yourself for some body heat. "I want to be alone for a bit." 

"You can be alone in my room, come on." Brian wasn't looking much better than Tim, water darkening his clothes, sticking to his body. He also held out a hand for you to take. His hand, to comfort, but his hand was also the one of someone influenced by the twig.

"No." You slid a foot back through the mud, looking to increase the distance between them and you. This was a lose lose situation for you. Distance yourself and be more susceptible to The Operators bullshit, it'd take it as you telling it to further mentally rock your shit. Or go home, talk about it, be supported into submitting. There were no good options. You were looking for a third route, telling yourself that maybe you could be strong against their words, you always had been. It was your best shot yet you were hesitant all the same to take it. "Leave me be. Go home, I'll be back in awhile." Going home sounded nice, the cold seeped into your bones. You wouldn't be swayed by their clear concern, outreaching hands, you had to stay strong, "I'm fine. Don't worry."

You just needed time to brace yourself.

"Oh bullshit." Tim scoffed, though he didn't take a step forward, respecting that you wanted to keep some distance but he didn't take a step back either. An odd limbo of sorts, respecting the distance you wanted but not completely giving it to you, "Nobody who runs blindly into the fuckin' woods in the middle of a storm after walking for hours, right after," He was jabbering on but skipped the specifics of what Toby and you did, " _That_ and is okay." Embarrassment was one of the first things you felt at the disgust that rolled off his tongue. Even he knew it was nasty as fuck. He was using it to coerce you to come home to get over that embarrassment though. "Come home."

"I'm staying out here." You insisted, you felt like crying. Pushing them away hurt when they looked like kicked puppies. You wondered if Toby stayed at home, trying to smoke and cry away his troubles. You felt a pang of empathy for the boy, feeling like an ass to leave him out to dry. Pushing the lot of them away was too hard even for you.

"Then we'll all stay out here." Brian chimed in softly with a suggestion of solidarity, love, you couldn't take it. "We're not going anywhere." A sweet smile even with a brow furrowed in worry.

"If you're not going anywhere then," You spun on your heels, mud attempting to suck you into the ground and root you in place, "I'm going somewhere else."

"(Y/n) please." Tim dropped the annoyance, exasperation, and let himself be venerable, his voice cracking. Showing you how desperate he was to talk to you, to smooth things over, make you feel better. They could chase you down if they wanted to, they were faster than you for sure, the twig could just let them know where you were. They didn't want to force you to talk, they wanted this to happen on equal grounds. They'd come to open up the idea of talking things over and to also get your dumb ass out of the rain. "We can stay out here if you want, but just talk to us." Tim was trying to compromise like a good leader should. 

There were no secrets between the lot of you, unknown information that hadn't come up yet for sure but secrets weren't a thing. You had a secret that was burning through your thick resolve with a heated intensity. 

You had to look away, lean against the tree for support instead of one of them. The concern, worry and care in their eyes just made you feel terrible. Not talking to them, trying to push them away. Looking at them crumbled your will, it was the perfect weapon for **him** to use against you. 

At your silent agreement to stay, the boys came closer. You tensed, thinking they were going to lean on you and force affection onto you. Instead, one of them came to either of your sides, leaning against the tree in an act of solidarity. 

"Do you want to talk about it?" Brian inquired after he leaned into the tree as he looked down at you carefully. He usually would wait, let the moment settle in but it was pouring rain, he had to be freezing, wanting to comfort you but wanting to convince you to willingly come inside.

You didn't respond, feeling bad about your uninstantaneous reply. Needing to think. In comfortable company in an uncomfortable setting with the bad things you've done hanging over your head. It gave you a moment of clarity similar to the one you had staring into the legless targets eyes as Toby blew his load in his pants. Even though it wasn't you who did so, talk about post nut clarity. 

What if you fought fire with fire? **He** was trying to use them as a magnet to draw you in. The idea of a life with them could reel you in sooner or later but you didn't want this life with them. You wanted to be free. They'd seen and experienced what life was like with you under the guise of being forced to live and go on missions together under the twink's rule. They'd experienced some domestic bliss with you, but they hadn't experienced genuine normalcy in a long time. You were the most up to date on the whole 'being normal' thing. You know that they wanted it. What if you reeled them in with tastes of sweet normalcy that they hadn't gotten a lick of in years? What if instead of them reeling you toward entrapment, you reeled them in towards freedom? There was no solid idea on how to do that just yet but you'd figure it out, you always did.

It'd be give and take. You'd have to tell them, communicate, keep building up your bonds. At the cost of the possibility, the chance, that you'd take the easy way out. Your will was strong though, strong enough to stand up one whole time to the twink. You could do this. Talk and get them out.

Beating around the bush was a task that'd only increase your time outside. You could head back now if you just said the word but the discomfort the cold water slapping down on your head and sticking your hair to your forehead brought you a sense of clarity. You always seemed to need to suffer in some sort of way to develop as a person.

"I told a target to shut the fuck up, called them a pussy, and then drowned them." The words sounded ridiculous but admitting the crude words you willing screeched at the terrified person was a difficult task. Saying it out loud felt like really owning up to and accepting what you did. You did a bad thing and now other people knew about it

You weren't done, "It was, uh." You didn't know how to continue, the words catching in your throat, carry out the message that could make or break your escape depending on how they took it and how well your will could hold up.

"Not bad?" Tim piped up after you let your uncertainty hang in the air for a few seconds, you looked from the thicket and to him. You expected him to be happy about it, pat you on the back, have a laugh about it. Instead he looked at you with wide eyes and a frown, he wanted you to give up and give into the twig's bullshit but he didn't seem too happy about you becoming more and more like them. Even if it's what you believed that he felt had to be done. 

"Yeah." You dryly responded, "It was better than just not bad, ya'know?" You felt sick admitting it, the enjoyable high, the thrill. You never thought you'd fall this far. You felt the need to clarify, distance yourself from them, stand on your crumbling moral high ground, "Feeling went away pretty quick. It just kinda happened." You rubbed your cold hands on your arms, sweater fabric hanging heavy on your skin, "Now though it's really fucking bad." You didn't mean the rush, it'd left your body long ago. It was the feelings of self hate that it left in its wake.

"It's going to be like that for a long time." Tim droned, informing you with what sounded like a heavy heart. Hurting for you, he could probably relate. 

Yet you still asked very eloquently, "What?"

"The aftermath." He clarified, so they had a name for it. Only reasonable after feeling that high for so long, did they feel the crashing low too? "It never goes away but it gets easier to deal with the more it happens, ya'know?"

It was a stupid question to ask yet you opened your mouth to ask it anyway, "Does the rush ever go away?" Feeling down in the dumps about life and yourself was par for the course when it came to murder. With every body added to your count, it got a little easier to deal with but there was this new found high that came with killing. "Can you like, ever not feel it?"

He blinked at your label for it, you could see the gears turning in his head. You knew they enjoyed killing, you heard the sick enjoyment in their voices at the cabin, you shivered thinking about how they used to talk about killing you. 

Brian answered for him, "Very rarely but for the most part, no." You glanced his way, arms crossed and trying to gather as much body heat as he could. You considered the boys strong willed, you'd have to be to make it this far. Yet not strong willed enough, it was insensitive of you considering all the shit they went through but you couldn't be the most considerate person in your position. If they couldn't fight the rush, could you?

You didn't care to doubt yourself, it only bogged you down. Being down in the dumps wouldn't help though sometimes you couldn't help it. You were fully aware of the fact that they were strong but were bent to the twigs whims. You told yourself your circumstances were different, you were different people but there was still the fact that they dealt with some twisted shit. They tried to fight and they lost to the twig and then to the thrill of killing. The fact was obvious, this was likely a hurdle you could not jump. You'd ignore the facts like an anti-vaxx Facebook mom. That didn't stop the pit of dread weighing heavy in your gut.

"It does get better though," Tim continued, you looked to him in hopes that his words would take the weight away from your gut, "The more you kill, the more unbelievable it gets to realistically look at all the shit you've done."

_"What?"_ You urged, disbelief evident. That didn't help at all, in fact it made the weight worse. One day you wouldn't remember how many lives you ruined, how many people you hurt.

"You'll get to a point where you can't wrap your head around it. Lose count of all the people you kill, ya'know?" You didn't, you still remembered all the names of those you'd killed, Isaac, Jimmy, Doug, Sully, Chris, the unknown camper and the failed final girl were an exceptions, but you could see their face in your mind's eye perfectly. "You don't think about it as much when you lose track. Let go of the need to count." That was true, counting was knowing for sure all the sins you'd done. You could stop and live in ignorance, it might lift a weight from your shoulders but in turn another weight would replace it. The not knowing how many you'd killed. It must be tough to not know, but knowing also sucked a massive amount of dick. It was pessimistic and sad. Still somewhat self-righteous, you'd do you best to keep up the count for you to honor those you'd killed. Not forget them and what killing them did to you. How their blood made you grow as a person.

"Or," Brian suggested, you looked to him hopefully, wishing he could bring words of encouragement and not bum you the fuck out, "You go completely numb to killing. The act of doing it is nice," Your stomach filliped as you looked to him calmly talking about enjoying slaughter like it was Wednesday brunch, "But after you don't really care." 

You looked to him, flabbergasted, you were pretty sure you were completely incapable to that. You'd gone numb to it somewhat but there were still mountains of guilt that came after the act. Their corpses haunted you in your dreams, going completely numb to it was something that you were incapable of.

"I, uh." You didn't exactly know how to respond to that either. Both options they offered up fucking sucked. Plus, they were assuming you had the same thought process and brain chemistry as they did, that your brain could jump through the same mental hoops.

Brian seemed to pick up your confusion, he went back on his statement, "Maybe you can't go numb like me and Toby can." You assumed Toby was pretty unaffected by killing since he looked forward so much to missions, "You don't strike me as somebody with incredibly low empathy." 

"Brian, I've killed people." You deadpanned, not feeling too good about the fact that their words weren't doing the best to console you, at least they didn't make you hate yourself.

"Toby and I had low empathy even before all of this," That had you somewhat intrigued but still feeling like shit, "It made it easier to adjust."

In your confusion, you allowed yourself to say something stupid to decompress the air, heavy with moisture and emotion, "Funny coming from the mother hen." Instinctively, you lightly elbowed him with a weak smile. Quickly pulling your arm back across your torso and letting the smile fall. The spark of a joke, the light friendly touch, it was so wonderful. Too good for a self loathing bastard like you. 

His soft laugh tore through you, too cute. "I taught myself from a young age how to mimic empathy so I could help people I care about." He informed, still smiling, "I don't actually feel it." Learning more about him, his sweet giggling, that made you feel better.

Greedily wanting more information, to grow closer, to feel better, you asked, "Taught yourself?"

"I have A.S.P.D." Brian informed you like you were supposed to know what the fuck that meant.

Though you weren't stupid, it was an acronym for something or other. You just wanted to feel less shitty, be a dumb ass, so you lightheartedly inquired, "You have a bunch of fucking letters?" Voice peaking at the end of the question, embellishing your playful stupidity. 

Tim coughed out a surprised laugh beside you, "Jesus Christ."

Shoulders bouncing with soft huffing laughs he began, "In more simple terms," You liked the hint of smug satisfaction he had on his face, knowing something you didn't as he often did, "I'm a psychopath." Okay, that made a lot of sense and was not very surprising. The superficial charm, though he'd mentioned offhandedly that he was a theatre kid in high school, you assumed that the two aided one another. The acting out of emotion was done in both fields. His general callousness, willingness to manipulate and how well he could do so. It didn't make him a bad person, though he was one, it just explained a lot.

One thing that didn't make sense was the strong emotional bonds between him and the rest of you. Another dumb question, "Aren't psychopaths supposed to not really care about or like trust other people?"

"I'm pretty trusting because I cant imagine somebody being worse than me." Brian informed you, a little less jovially. "I care about you guys," He seemed to read your mind, "I try to do my best to empathize and relate to y'all, but with other people it's just," He shrugged, "You know?"

Implying that the lack of personal connection made it so he could be completely cut off from all feelings about whatever he did to them. Though it made you question how he actually saw your relationship. Were you just something to lie to and toy with for his own enjoyment? You though not, there was no need to lie for personal gain with you or the others as that'd only damage your relationships, making it rougher on him.

You wondered when he got diagnosed. If his family was supportive and understanding of his condition. Unlike Tim and Toby he didn't seem to have some sort of familial baggage. It was either so bad that he couldn't bring himself to talk about it or it was normal, fine, good even. If it was a good upbringing, you wondered if he missed his family, how many siblings he had, what his parents were like. One thing about dating a bunch of legally dead men was they never had to bring you home to their parents. It was bittersweet. Meeting the parents was always a stressful experience, fathers sizing you up to see if you're good enough to date their child, mothers being sweet, asking you about how school is and other mildly interesting topics. All while you'd be sitting at the dinner table, trying to come across as put together as possible. Yet meeting someones parents was always an interesting experience and usually seen as a step in the right direction in the world of dating. You'd never get to meet their parents, that kinda sucked but at least you had their personal accounts of how their parents were. So far, Tim and Toby's parents weren't the best. Brian was completely unknown.

Nodding in new found understanding as well as gratefulness that he was comfortable to tell you this, even after finding out about Toby creaming his jeans because of you a few hours ago. You were curious about the boy as well, asking questions felt nice.

"What about Toby?' You didn't have the will to stop yourself from questioning, learning, deepening your bonds. Going with the path of the most resistance, loving, learning, adapting, still fighting against The Operator's will and the boys whims for you to give up already.

There was a great flash of white right before Tim began, "He doesn't really get it, ya'know?" You turned to him as a booming roll of thunder cracked through the air, "Can't really relate to feeling pain. Wasn't shown much of it growing up either, I think."

"Empathy?" You assumed that's what he meant but you wanted complete transparency.

"Yep." Tim nodded, you idly wondered if he wanted a smoke right about now. Dealing with Toby then you, yet unable to light one up in the pouring rain, "Dad was a real piece of shit, mom was a push over." There was a note of distaste over Toby's father. The man had supposedly greatly contributed to his troubles. 

"You watched him?" You got him knowing about Toby's father, he somewhat remembered the man and his hate for him. Though he hardly knew shit about his mom. He loved her, she loved him, but he didn't really remember anything other then the idea of being loved. 

"Yeah," Brian spoke, amusement gone, this wasn't knowledge to be smug over because you didn't know it, "Not long, consideration was short," You vaguely recalled Toby boasting about having the shortest consideration period, shit hit the fan with him real quick, "It was very obvious that his home environment was toxic." There was another recollection of him mentioning that he became a proxy a little over two years ago, you couldn't imagine being stuck in a situation like that while also being stalked by the twink and his goons, the goons he came to grow close to. The goons that took better care of him than his parents. "Basically, he was never able to develop emotional intelligence or proper social etiquette," Brian did his best to summarize simply, "Then there was the lack of care and the insensitivity to pain. Just added up to him not really being able to empathize with others too well." 

Toby seemed to understand when you were in great emotional distress as it was very apparent and obvious. Though he never picked up on the smaller things. Social cues were something he couldn't read due to lack of experience, being incredibly sheltered and neglected. 

You hummed, understanding, feeling empathy that two of your boys couldn't. There was a sense of relief there, at least you could still feel it. Though it was wildly skewed. Feeling bad for a sadistic murderers upbringing but not as bad when you were drowning somebody. There was the though of being glad that after the killing you felt horrible. Able to understand all too well what you'd done, steal away everything they could have been.

"What about you Tim?" Brian had excluded Tim from the 'lack of or having little empathy' label, you wanted to know why. He looked at you quizzically, asking for clarification, "Empathy." Short and sweet, no need for further explanation.

"Yeah I've got that shit." You let out a huff at his crude confession. It was nice though, to know that he was like you, able to feel it. Yet he admitted to doing his best to block it out, find loopholes around the feeling, avoiding it at all costs. Probably to keep his shit together, "Still though," Tim flatly sighed, "It gets easier to deal with the more you do it," He rephrased his earlier words with an air of exasperation, "It catches up with you sometimes though, I'm not like those two." You'd yet to get to the point where every kill didn't make you think yourself to be human garbage. You couldn't block it out and cope with it so much that 'it' wasn't constantly 'caught up' to you, you felt shitty all time about it. Unable to escape from it, not like you wanted to, you wanted to wallow in your misery as a form of defense. If you could feel the pity for those you'd kill, constantly hate yourself for what you'd done, then you weren't exactly what the twink wanted you to be just yet. You had to suffer to keep from suffering even more, the lesser evil and taking the harder way. 

Though it was the predictable truth, it didn't bring you the most piece of mind, "I was afraid you'd say that."

"It's what you need to hear." Tim spoke matter-a-faculty, it was true, from his perspective anyway. You watched him look away, eyes scanning the tree line distantly, his hair was slat now, sticking to his forehead in thick chunks, you could see him shivering. 

From your perspective it was what you were expecting, but not hoping for.

"Do you ever like," You tried to word it antagonistically as you could, "Feel bad about certain people?" Kills, from strangers to people he knew, there had to be some that stuck with him. At least one that hangs over his head near constantly like Sully's death was for you. 

"Sometimes." Tim responded, no embellishments, just earnesty. "There is one that really fucks with me." He paused, gathering himself. You felt bad making them stand in the rain with you, cold, clothes sticking to skin, it wasn't pleasant but it made every word feel more genuine. The want to convince you to come home as soon as possible had them cutting around the fluff, even though they were already fairly straight forward. They were never ones to soften their punches. Despite that, sharing painful truths in the cruel environment, suffering together from the cold, it provided solidarity, comfort. It was such teenage horseshit logic but that's just how it was.

"Alex." The accursed name that popped up every once in a while. Brian's ex, Jay's killer, Tim's first victim. 

It was confusing, "I thought you hated him?" You'd think it'd be easier to feel good about killing someone like that. Feel not a shred of empathy for him, remain angry at the decayed corpse.

"I did, I still do." Tim's gaze shifted up and around you, to Brian. His dark eyes quickly snapped back to you as a particularly chilly gust of wind blew passed the lot of you, cutting through your sopping clothes, "There's a good reason I stabbed that asshole in the throat seventeen times."

Okay, whoa. You don't just kill somebody like that and not have a searing hatred for them. Yet here he was, saying that Alex's death hung over his head.

He continued with a note of rancor, "I hated him so fuckin' much that after Jay died," He didn't need to remind you that it was at Alex's hand, "Killing him was the only thing that kept me going."

"Why do you feel bad about it then?" You didn't get it. Alex was shaping up to be absolutely irredeemable. He hurt your boys really fucking badly, you wanted to punch his stupid dead face.

"Only really figured it out after I became a proxy." Though hate was still evident, there was a pang of melancholy, "He was trying to help. Stop us," Him and Brian, maybe Jay, maybe there were others, "From being considered." Tim let out an exasperated sigh, "So, He killed as many of us-"

Brian quickly interjected for clarity, "His friends. Those he believed to be 'infected'." 

Tim continued, "As he could. Thought he was doing something good, which he kinda was. But!" Tim looked to the clouds above, heavy and dark, "Didn't do much because now we're here."

Alex was shaping up to be more redeemable actually. Still a dick hole for hurting your boys, but you kinda got it. As horrible as the sentiment was, killing people off so they didn't have to give into the horrible fate of becoming a proxy. You could advocate for it being worse than death, its cold embrace seeming so much easier to jump into sometimes other than just moving ahead. 

"He was trying to play the hero but he wasn't all self righteous about it." You wondered if Tim was crying. You certainly were starting to, something about Alex pulled at your heartstrings. Part of you wished Dan was more like Alex, instead of getting you and others he knew 'infected', you wished he just killed you off. Though you didn't completely wish that, grateful to be suffering, being pelted with liquid misery. Yet being surrounded by people who loved and understood you. "Honestly, it was his only redeeming quality." 

It's harder to be completely angry and hateful toward someone over understanding them and feeling bad for their plight. Finding out that they weren't completely rotten to the core like you wanted them to be. Much akin to how your relationship with the boys developed. 

"That and the fact that when he was done, he was going to kill himself." Tim looked away from the rustling leafs, the clouds momentarily lit with a white rolling flash. Tim looked tired, not just because of the fact that he was soaking wet, he looked tired as a whole, all the time. Being the leader, taking the brunt of the twig's abuse, trying to keep it together for the others and you, it had to put so much weight on his back. You'd get him out of this, alleviate his pain.

It only made sense, if Alex was going to kill off all those he thought to be 'infected', then if he was the last one standing, it'd make no sense to keep on living. After all that he'd done, it'd be moot if he kept on living, 'infecting'. "Didn't work out that way." Tim shuddered as he continued, he was freezing you bet, "In the end, it was just me and Jessica left." Who? "Last time I checked on her, she was working for some shipping company. Being normal." There was jealousy and relief in his voice, thick and complicated. You weren't going to pry, he was pouring his heart out in a way he thought acceptable. You were going to respect that and let him say what he believed needed to be said. Even if the ending message would be for you to give up on your quest to free all of them. "But," Everything after 'but' was never good, "Knowing that _thing_ , it won't last."

You hoped whoever Jessica was, that she was okay. Being with the boys was great and all but this sucked. The Operator was a horrible little fucker that no one should have to deal with. Having another poor soul under its thumb was the last thing the greedy twink needed. Though you hoped for her normalcy, you couldn't help but agree with Tim. Normalcy was not meant to last.

"As for me," This monologue was getting pretty long, you nerve expected Tim to be one to go on like this, "After everything I went to McDonald's and tried to kill myself, take one for the team just like Alex was planning to." It was shocking news but you still got it. Tim took Alex's place as one of the last survivors. He took upon the duty to kill himself. Yet he wasn't like Alex, he didn't have the heart to kill Jessica. You wondered if after everything he went through if he could bring himself to kill her now.

"Burger King." Brian's odd interjection had you snapping your head to him with furrowed brows. This was a lot already, very heavy and serious information but here Brian was, correcting Tim. 

"What?" Tim reasonably sounded irritated.

"You got Burger King instead of McDonald's. _Then_ , you tried to kill yourself." Brian tutted, somewhat amused at remembering the events leading up to Tim's attempted suicide more than he did. 

"Okay, hold up." You held up your hands in gesture for them to pause, "How do you know that? Didn't you like," You paused to give Brian a questioning look, "Die?" Though The Operator brought him back to the world of the living, you were never informed when or how he died. You wanted to understand the logistics, further understand them, The Operator too. 

Brian let out a halfhearted laugh, not as vibrant and bright as usual, the rain must really be putting a wet blanket on his mood. "Yeah," He glanced to Tim, "Roughly two months before Tim tried to kill himself, _somebody_ got me thrown out of a window." He weakly joked, trying to lighten the mood a bit.

"Well," Tim retorted in a huff, meeting his weak level of playfulness, " _Somebody_ went for the window instead of running. It's not all on me that you fell."

Brian hummed, sounding not very convinced, "I had nowhere else to run. You could have stopped chasing me."

"Oh, so you just expect me to stop going after my stalker?" Tim chided, shifting his head so some of his wet hair moved away from his eyes, though you could see a smile on his tired lips.

"Guys." You interrupted their little squabble, smiling. Though it was entertaining, you wanted to start to wrap up the wet heart to hearts and go home. 

"Right." Brian caught your drift, "It brought me back." Judging from his shift in tone, the furrow of his brow, it was horrible, disgusting, violating of what you assumed was a comforting embrace away from all of **his** bullshit. "When I woke up, I _knew."_ His voice went flat, that's how you knew. Coming back when he'd known himself to have died, coming back knowing things he shouldn't, coming back as a proxy, it was a fate worse than death. 

There was a lull in conversation only filled in by the roar of water slapping itself into to ground. Constant white noise that was akin to the static but much quieter, less violent, no pain or loss of bodily control. All there was, was the tree of you, and the uncomfortable weight of the conversation hanging over your heads. As well as the uncomfortable weight of water bogging down your clothes. 

It made sense for a moment, why they didn't believe you to be a possible savior. It was because not even deaths cold and bony grip could keep The Operator at bay. If it could drag Brain from the fiery deaths of hell, then what made you think that you could outwit **him**? What gave you the right, the moxie, the balls, to make you believe that you had a chance? It was love.

To you it was the beginning and the end. It got you into this, now it was going to get you out.

"So," You stared slowly, still processing, "Did you do it?"

"Again," Tim repeated, "I _tried_ to kill myself, multiple times." He pointed a fat finger at Brain, "This one kept stopping me. Super fucking annoying." There was no genuine anger, annoyance, it was water under the bridge to be laughed at and openly talked about. Though the situation was serious, grim and grave, the two of them couldn't seem to help but laugh at it. Reminding you of yourself. Though they saw their past selves in you, doomed to fail. You saw yourself in them, destined to succeed. 

"Not my fault you wouldn't listen." Brian replied, pushing his back off the tree. 

This wasn't over just yet, you didn't make a move to get going. Tim huffed, sounding mildly miffed, "You think I could read all that code shit you left?" He shook his head with a roll of his eyes. At you apartment before Toby scrambled his brains, Tim read binary like it wasn't even shit. Brian must had taught him in the years since they became proxies. 

"Didn't speak nerd, huh?" You looked to Tim, eyes twinkling with amusement. You remembered how calling Brian a 'nerd bitch' got you pinned to a wall with a hand around your neck. Now though, you knew each other and he wouldn't hurt you over it. He just might give you the cold shoulder though.

Tim grunted out a little chuckle, "Yeah." He pushed himself off the tree's bark as well, another cue to leave.

You wanted to go home too but you still believed you should suffer, that you didn't deserve domesticity and happiness. "If you guys wanna head home that's cool. I'm gonna stay out here awhile longer." You didn't need them to say anything about leaving, you had a pretty good idea that they thought you were over standing in the rain. 

"Why?" Tim sharply asked, you looked to him. Brows raised in concern, not matching his tone.

"Why what?" You clicked your tongue, not appreciating being talked to that way. 

"Why do you want to be alone out here so bad?" He shifted his weight forward but stopped himself before he took a step closer, before he touched you. Being aware of your momentary adversity to the idea.

Annoyed at the idea of further suffering and at your clear self hate. You had a feeling he was going to get aggressively wholesome on you. "Because I think I deserve it," You admitted with a weak shrug, "I'm stupid, unobservant," You thought back to the horrible death of the survivor, "Thick skulled, _not giving up by the way_." You insulted yourself but was sure to add an aside just so they know where you still stood, Tim frowned. "I just think that I shouldn't have such," You hummed trying to choose sickeningly sweet words, "Lovely company when I'm a piece of living garbage and I should ju-"

"Shut up!" Tim snapped, face hardened, speaking sternly but with no hate, "You're not dumb but you should stop trying to fuckin' isolate yourself! You don't deserve it." You were right about one thing, he was getting aggressively wholesome with you. 

Your heart fluttered at his words but you weren't swayed, your self hate taking over, "I do though!" You laughed, venom dripping from your words despite your smile. Though it was raining, hot tears slipped down your cheeks, mixing with the ice cold rainwater. "I'm the worst!"

"No you're not! I am!" Tim barked, a hand slapping onto his chest.

"No you're not!" You echoed in disbelief, "I am! You're a fucking wonderful and hard working leader, you stupid bitch!" Though it was true, your emotional state had you cursing at him, "You're a god damn delight Tim! A sweet treat to be around!" Sully's voice reverberated in your head as you spoke those words, you parroted him. He always said that in a much kinder way whenever you were feeling down in the dumps about yourself.

"(Y/n) for fucks sake!" Tim scoffed, "You're not a good person but you are, ya'know!?" He sounded exasperated, tired at your suggestion of being rotten to the core. Though it was hypocritical, you sometimes thought yourself to be all bad, irredeemable. Ironic when you forgave them, people who'd done much, much worse. You got what he way saying though, by societal standards, you were scum. However, in your situation, you were still trying to be good to others, your boys. Trying to help, give them love, be good to them while you beat yourself up. You were bad but you weren't all bad. Not quite a good person but not exactly a complete waste of air, that's a lot coming from Tim.

Brian let out a huff, "You two are the same person."

_"What?"_ Tim and you shouted in a unison, you inching yourself away from the tree. Tim's words resonated with you deeply. You were awful but not all bad. You didn't deserve this, freezing yourself and trying to deprive yourself of socialization. 

"You are." Brian held up his hands in mock defense. "Stubborn, sharp tongued, but," He perked up with a grin, "Very sweet."

Once more you and Tim shouted in a silly unison, " _I am not nice!"_

The two of you looked at each other, blinking dumbly. Then the two of you started wheezing, then laughing. Brian quickly joined in while warm happiness filled your guts. Your self loathing wouldn't magically go away just like that but with the comparison to Tim that was way too true, you wanted to like yourself more. Tim was sympathetic, strong willed, sometimes funny, loveable. If you were like him, were you really so bad?

You completely pushed yourself away from the tree, looking to follow your boys.

Laughter dying down, you glanced to Brian with a smile, his soft gaze of adoration making it wider. Then you looked to Tim, his hand outstretched a loving offer. You took his hand into yours, glued to the sight of his much bigger hand wrapping around yours. Pruned from the water but still rough with scar tissue. 

You didn't see it coming as your gaze was intently fixated on your hands but there was a soft pressure applied to the side of your smile. You glanced up with raised brows to see Tim quickly pulling away, a blush forming on his cheeks.

"You are nice." He corrected your earlier statement that was said in tandem with his.

Surprise, smugness, and adoration flashed across your face in quick succession.

"So are you." It took a lot of effort to not say 'no, you.' You weren't going to self deprecate and put him on a pedestal, you were both nice, sometimes.

He blinked, looking like a cat had his tongue, blush deepening. He glanced away and to the direction that he came from. You could just barley hear him mumble, "Fuckin' cute." Probably just speaking unknowingly to himself, it still made you blush anyway.

Your free hand fell to your side, you glanced to Brian, fingers twitching in an offer. An offer than he quickly took, though his hands were damp and clammy, they made you feel warm on the inside. 

The rush wouldn't go away. You wouldn't accept it into your heart though. You'd feel remorse after every kill, even if after awhile you'd have to force yourself to do so, you would. You'd get your boys out of here while being a shitty person, a shitty person that they loved. 

_"Lets go home."_


	48. 47 - Gentle Bastardization

**NSFW Mentions**

Toby wasn't in the house when the lot of you got back, rivulets of water dripping off of your clothes onto the floor. You wondered if he was out in the rain, hating himself like you had been, but he was alone because the boys had come for you. There was a pit of guilt deep in your guts about how you made him feel. It made it hard for you to say anything to Tim and Brian as you walked towards the bathroom to shower, giving them a tense white person smile instead as you passed them. The hot water of the shower didn't wash away said guilt. The guilt of the rush, the guilt for making Toby feel bad about creaming his jeans in front of a dead body. Something he should feel bad about in all honesty, but you knew he wouldn't. His low empathy and horrible circumstances wouldn't allow it. Though you had a sinking suspicion that you running outside into a storm as fast as you could in order to avoid him and the others, probably had him feeling like wet hot garbage. Even if what he did was immoral, you still loved him and the thought of making him feel disgusting made your stomach clench.

You had to apologize. 

Tim and Brian had returned to their rooms to relax after their own showers. There was a brief period of them mothering you, asking if you were okay, if you needed to talk more. Though Tim was more abrasive about it, telling you that it wasn't a big deal and that he was just doing what he'd do for anybody else. You didn't doubt that he'd fret over the others in the slightest, in fact he seemed particularly worried over Brian on the walk back. The man had gown progressively quieter and by the time you arrived home, he was hardly speaking at all, a thin frown on his lips, brows furrowed. Just a few words here and there to ask how you were, if you needed anything. You dismissed him, told him to get his fine ass into bed and take a nap, trying to get a smile out of him but not even compliments and a playful smack on his ass could do it.

Tim had fought with you a bit on leaving you be in the living room, telling you not to run off again. That he was worried, cared for you, all that cute soft shit that had him red in the face. He ran into his room at the speed of light at the suggestion that he was a big softie, deciding he didn't care if you went outside again. 

Now you sat in the living room, alone. The house had grown quiet except for the rain that pelted the roof, a soothing pitter patter. You'd take a gander that the boys had decided to take a nap. The cold water sapped your strength, you were tired as fuck, you weren't surprised that they were too. Although, you hadn't slept in twenty-seven hours. You were determined to stay awake for Toby's return, smooth things over the very second he got home. There was the idea of jumping on him, forcing him into a very aggressive hug to show him how much you cared about him, how you wouldn't shrink away from his touch, though you scrapped the thought. Exhaustion bogged you down, practically gluing you to the couch, your heavy limbs melting into it to the sound of the rain.

_**Thud!**_

Though your eyelids had grown heavy, they snapped open the second that the door slammed shut. Body jolting with a newfound surge of consciousness, you totally didn't almost fall asleep. Not in the fucking slightest. 

Groaning, your heavy muscles worked to push yourself into a more dignified position. You let his name be slurred past your lips, "Tobbbieeeee." 

"(Y/n)?" A low croak mixed with harsh ' _thud'_ s, growing louder with his approach. Appearing in the door way, hair wet yet matted, curling against his forehead, lower legs slathered in mud, clothes soaked, stood Toby, looking like complete shit. But he was your shit and the way his face lit up when he saw you made your heart skip a beat.

"Hey buddy." Swaying as you steadied yourself, hands pressing into the couch cushions for support. Toby wasn't one for patience or dramatic pauses, the second your acknowledged his existence with a weak smile, he was running toward you. "Sorry abo-" You wanted to get a few more words in before he pounced on you but the air was forced from your lungs.

He'd thrown himself onto you all at once, you let out an, "OOF!" Head snapped up to the ceiling with the force, lungs screaming for oxygen. Toby's arms and legs wrapped around your torso, pressing your arms to your sides with a vice-like grip. You squealed out a pathetic wheeze, fully awake but now in pain.

The pain brought on by the aggressively loving embrace of Toby, who'd buried his head in your shoulder. His cold hair sticking to your neck as he let out a stream of word vomit, fast, shameless, and full of love, "Sssuh-sorry I'm ssuh-so fucking sttuh-stupid and blind," Water seeped into your clothes from his, akin to how the blood did last night, but this time it was cold and didn't make you feel sick, "I ssshuh-should'a made ssh-sure that- that-" He stumbled over his words rather quickly, heaving while his lungs rattled out loud sobs. Cold dirt clinging to your back, wet and heavy. A slight pressure on your back, just like the bark of the tree.

You made him feel this way, though you knew it wasn't completely your fault. It wasn't your fault that you were in a scenario where you had to kill people, it wasn't your fault that murder got Toby 'excited', it wasn't on you that the survivor had mad grit. Props to them for living but also, kinda sucks that they were alive to see that. Though their disgusted gaze, full of hate and judgement was a wake up call in the moment, you couldn't imagine that being the last thing you saw before you died. Their final moments were used for telling you that you were too comfortable, that your vices weren't as justifiable as you wanted them to be, that you and your boys were so much worse than you thought, the lot of you only growing more rotten with each passing day. The gaze was deserved, punishing yet helpful at the same time. 

"Hey, hey, hey," You did your best to tug your arms from his grip to no avail, wanting to rub his back, "I get it." You weren't going to tell him that it was okay even if you wanted to. It wasn't okay, what he did was shitty, what you did was shitty. You understood but that didn't justify the both of your actions. "I though that they were dead too." You forced the gross words out of your mouth with a cringe, a reminder that you practically fucked in front of a dead body, assumed two. 

His koala hug didn't lessen in the slightest, "I knuh-know but they weren't an-and it fucked you uh-up!" He didn't give a shit about the now dead survivor, the disgusting act of grinding before bashed in rib cages and faces mangled into expressions of terror, he just knew that you were upset, "I'm ssuh-sorry!"

As an adult and because Toby wasn't the best at reading between the lines, it was best to be transparent, "Look Toby, I get that we got too into it. I don't ever want to do something like that again." He stiffened on your lap, his fingers curling in your shirt, most likely thinking you were turned off by the idea of sexual contact with him, "In front of dead bodies or people!" You clarified, not wanting him to further feel bad about himself as well as the truth that sex sounded cool and good, just not right now. He'd recently knocked the air from your lungs and was getting your leggings and stolen t-shirt wet. White and baggy, Brian's. And of course it said something stupid. In bright pink text, were two chemical symbols spelling out simply, 'HoEs' from the elements Holmium and Einsteinium. It was the kind of shirt annoying nerd boys wore and thought was the peak of comedy, the kind of shirt your annoying nerd boy wore. 

You continued, ignoring the crushing weight against you and the mud now covering you after you just showered, "I love you," He perked up, removing his head from the crook if your neck so you could finally see his face, "And I understand how you feel about," His bottom lip was quivering, eyes red and glistening, cheeks flushed, slicked with rainwater and tears, "The missions." You couldn't help but shiver, babying a cold blooded killer, telling him you understood that he liked killing. Though you weren't tell him murder was okay, there was still a pang of morality that wouldn't fuck off. It told you how wrong this was, having to force yourself to talk about murder like it was something much more casual, like it was a guilty pleasure that wasn't that bad. "That you have fun, get excited," Though you weren't going to beat around the bush, you weren't going to talk about murder then say the word horny, "But I don't feel the same way about that. I'd love to do something with you," He blinked hopefully, a tear streaking down his red face, "But I still need time to get over that." Though he apologized, verbally and with his actions spelling out his desperate need for your forgiveness, you still needed time. It was just a tad traumatizing and the idea of sex with Toby came with the bitter murmurer that were their last words, _'Please, I won't tell anyone what I saw!'_

He didn't seem thrilled at the idea of waiting but he understood that you were deeply uncomfortable. Though he was okay with fucking in front of corpses, half dead people too, he wanted you to be the happiest you could be and you were glad that he understood. 

He pressed a chaste kiss to your temple, nodding slowly in understanding, with a sniffle he croaked, "Sssuh-so you ssstuh-still wanna do something with me but like," He mimicked your very PG description of sex, and as he paused to gather himself you heard a door in the hallway open, the sound quickly repeating after a few footfalls, "You juh-just need ss-some time?" Rapidly blinking, the last of his tears falling away. Upset but hopeful.

"Yeah," His grip loosened but didn't let up, "I don't know how long so I don't want to promise you anything soon, but I do want to do things with you." You were able to lift your arms, wrapping them around his back. He was so cold, freezing but not shivering. Toby couldn't feel it, after all he had C.I.P.A. It still made you worry, "Honey, you need to shower or you're gonna get sick."

Tilting his head dumbly, a smile finally twitched onto his lips, "I wuh-won't get sssuh-sick, (Y/n)."

_These stupid motherfuckers._

That was all you could think while you poured the yellow powder into the boiling water. They were all absolutely silly, clowns you could say. You didn't know what happened to Brian, but right after his shower he'd curled himself into a blanketed roll and had been laying like that for hours. Tim had checked in on him some time ago and had been trying to help him out since. 

Tim may have been alright, but Toby and Brian were not. Toby had a bad case of the sniffles, Brian didn't seem sick but he wouldn't get out of bed. Not talking too much unless asked about nerd shit. When you first learned of his situation you tried to help by asking him about nerd shit and oh boy did he info dump on you. You could hardly remember jackshit about what he said, all of it spoken in a low droning mumble. It was the most he'd spoken since this morning so that was good and hearing him talk about things he loved always made you smile. 

You were assuming that he was having a rough day mentally. You didn't know if he struggled with depression but in your situation you wouldn't be surprised. There were no kinds of medications in the house for them, they all just dealt with their shit in whatever way they could. Which was a terrible idea but it was safe to assume that they had no fucking health care working under the twink. There was also his autism, certain sensory experiences were very rough for him to experience. The rainwater coldly bogging down his clothes for so long may have been a culprit. He was always very picky about his dress, exclusively wearing loose fitting cotton t-shirts and hoodies, nothing else. He hated zippers and one time he told you with the scariest expression you'd seen on him since the alleyway how much he hated velvet and polyester work out type clothes. So being in sopping wet clothes that clung to his body much like the work out shirts he hated so much was probably upsetting. 

Feeling bad that you dragged him outside, but thankful that he did, you opted to make dinner. Tim was too busy worrying over his boys, Brian wrapped up in his bed with Toby laying at his side. You had to grab a blanket from his room to give to him as you didn't want to disturb the now comfy Brian. When you gave him the blanket you noticed something. Motherfucker took one of the dresses that Brian had stolen for you at the mall for himself. Putting it on after his shower which you had to coerce him into. 

Green and flowy, it spread around his scrunched up form almost beautifully. You had no idea when he snatched it from your overflowing suitcase but he claimed it was soft, comfortable, and offered a lot of leg movement, kicking his legs about weakly to show you all while he sniffled pathetically.

You shrugged it off, not getting fussy about it for multiple reasons. For one, he was sick and you wanted him to do whatever he could to make himself feel better. As long as it wasn't something horribly obscene. As well as the fact that it didn't really bother you that he was in a dress. Though he was sick, nostrils clogged and voice growing weak, he seemed very happy with the article of clothing, curling his fingers around the bottom. It was yours, comfortable and the boy shared everything, so why shouldn't you? 

Although, Tim was weirded out by the idea for a moment, visibly cringing because he was probably raised in an environment where men being anything but 'manly men' was seen as odd and bad, he let the boy be with a soft smile. He saw how happy he was despite being sick. Wearing a dress didn't make Toby less of a man, he wasn't particularly feminine either, he was just wearing the equivalent of a long t-shirt that was ornate and pretty. When you told him that he looked cute in it, he shot up and tried to kiss you, Tim had to shove him back into the bed and yell at him to rest while you suppressed a giggle.

Now here you were, in the kitchen. No fucking clue what you were doing. You read the instructions but you didn't think that the soup was supposed to boil over the rim of the pot and leak onto the stove top. Probably not.

_"Shit, shit, shit, shit!"_ You hissed as you shoved the pot off the heat, the yellow bubbles splashing over the pots sides, a droplets of boiling soup scalding your skin. Recoiling and letting go of the pot, you looked to the mess of liquid and over cooked pasta, it looked like hot garbage and piss.

"Why do I smell burning?!" Tim shouted from Brian's room as you scrambled to snatch bowls from the cupboards. 

Slamming the ceramic onto the counter you whipped your head to the stove. The heat was still on, the puddle of soup and noodles that had boiled over and spilled passed the pots rim were grossly bubbling on the stove top like wiggling maggots. 

_"FUCK!"_ A hand flew forth, twisting the ovens knob with a few soft ' _click'_ s until the heat was off. It didn't completely disappear right away though, the yellow soup darkening into orange that was quickly darkening into a bubbling black muck. 

"(Y/n)?! Is the fuckin' kitchen on fire?" You could tell Tim had left his post from the harsh footfalls that thundered down the hallway. He was coming, oh god, oh fuck, he was _coming_. 

"Uhm! No?" You called over your shoulder, how dare he think that you of all people would set the kitchen alight? You were shit at this but not _that_ shit. 

He stormed into the room with a huff, obnoxiously smelling the air as he came closer. Eyes scanning the room, almost instantly landing on the stove, "Jesus fuckin' christ (Y/n)."

Exasperation evident, a hand coming up to his hair and pushing it out of his face. You knew you fucked up if Tim, a competent man with many things except cooking, looked tired and worn just looking at what you'd done. 

Today had been a long day.

Tim may had been an abrasive, rude, loud, mannerless, fool, but at least he helped out with the mess in the kitchen. He wasn't nice about it at all though. At least on a surface level, compliments with Tim weren't very forward and often behind thinly veiled insults.

From saying things like, "How are you this incompetent? Tch, what would you do without me?" To, "At least it's edible. Not the worst I've ever had though, nice job. Dumb ass."

Once the kitchen was clean and bowls were filled with soup, he'd yet to shut trap. 

"I'll take all the bowls to Brian's room. You'll probably drop 'em all and hurt yourself somehow." Tim insisted, trying to reach for the two bowls you held. One for you and him while he held Toby and Brian's. 

"No," You huffed, stepping away from him, there was no way you trusted his dumb ass to carry four bowls in his over-sized manlet hands, "I got it!" You don't know what he thought he was doing. There was no way for him to hold that many bowls. 

"Like you 'got' the soup?" Tim chided as you slowly stepped around him. Neither of you willing to lunge or run, the soup still scalding, heat seeping through the ceramic. 

"I was a waitress for years, _Timbert_ ," You spat the overly white person-esque sounding name at him as you exited the kitchen, "I'm not going to drop them."

"TIMBERT?!" Tim parroted in a scream, pausing his gait to dumbly stare.

Chuckling and stopping your careful walk, you haughtily informed him, "It's a nickname. Get used to it." It was cuter than leader man and the others had cute nicknames, it was high time you gave Tim one, even if it was dumb as shit.

"I-" He kept opening and closing his mouth, not exactly knowing how to respond. You were just about to let out a laugh, walk away with the last word before he finally spoke, "Whatever," He averted his gaze while shuffling into the living room, coming closer, "Dummy."

With a bark of giggles, you shifted closer to him. Butterflies in your tummy, fluttering like a motherfucker at the newfound nickname that was just _so_ Tim. Rude but not like when he called you Bitch for days on end, it was softer and it made your heart soar. You felt a softly smug smile creep onto your lips as you looked at him, pink cheeks and looking huffy. He didn't move away from your close facial proximity but he didn't seal the deal either. Taking the lead for your leader, you quickly leaned in and placed a peck on his lips with an obnoxious, "Mmauh."

Pulling away you got to take in the intoxicating sight of his flabbergasted expression. Dumbly blinking with the ghost of a smile on his agape lips. "Anyway!" You take a practiced turn, soup hardly sloshing its contents, "Come on slow poke." You didn't wait up for him, walking confidently down with hall with a stupid grin. 

A stupid grin that faded when you pushed open Brian's ajar door. Said man didn't even look up at you as you carefully padded into the room. You could only see his face, everything else shouted in thick blankets, curled up and tense. In his company was Goober, the dog was lying beside him, cuddled up against the mass of blankets, eyes closed and steadily breathing. Sleeping peacefully, cuddled up to Brian in an attempt to make him feel better. Just like he'd done for you back at your apartment with your panic attacks, he still did so. Sometimes things got to be too much, even with all of your boys' support progress wasn't linear or easy after all. Fingers being drummed too loudly or accidental knocking had your heart rate skyrocketing, sudden touches from behind could sometimes would have you shrieking. Despite the fact that the ones who caused your trauma were the ones you'd fallen for, they still fucking caused your trauma. Sometimes you needed someone else to comfort you, someone soft and fuzzy, someone who drooled everywhere and had four legs. Goober. 

He wasn't a trained service dog but he was good enough at comforting you during you wheezing panic attacks, filled with babbling and hitched sobs. You were sure his comforting presence helped Brian out at least a little bit, he was a soft guy. Earlier in the evening you saw the man laying face down in his bed, Goober digging at his sheets and yipping in an attempt to get a response. You theorized the only reason you could see his face was because Goober was worried and wanted to make sure he wasn't dead or something. 

Toby loudly sneezed into his elbow, obnoxiously snorting mucus back into his throat as he looked to you, "Is th-that for muh-me?" 

Tim entered the room, "Yeah," Toby looked to him, frowning that you wouldn't be the one to deliver him sustenance, "Now shut up and eat."

Dinner wasn't eaten in silence. The clanking of spoons on ceramic, Tim's loud slurping, and Toby's sniffling filled the room. This was normal, this was fine, silence wasn't very common in this household. Toby tried to chatter but every time he did Tim would tell him to shut his trap and conserve energy. He was sick after all, and his voice was scratchy and hoarse. It took Toby roughly nine 'shut up's to actually keep quiet, forlornly leaning over Brian's cocooned form. He was as quiet as he could be, his tics still had him occasionally grunt. Thankfully, he was doing his best to suppress tics in his right arm, not wanting to pour hot soup on the mound of blankets that was Brian.

The entire time Brian had stayed quiet, not even a soft slurp while he ate, just blank faced and depressingly apathetic. He wasn't in a good place. Though not talking was something that he often did when upset, you'd still talk at him. If he didn't respond that was fine, if he did then maybe you could have a lighthearted conversation with him. Do your best to keep his mind off of his shitty day.

Spooning the last of your kinda shitty dinner into your mouth and swallowing, you asked, "Read any good books lately?" Glancing to his bedside table, a stack of books full of colorful tabs of notes sticking out neatly between their pages. The only one without colorful tabs was your little booklet of crossword puzzles, it'd become a cutely domestic routine for the two of you to fiddle with your books separately before bed on nights you slept with Brian, which you assumed would be more frequent with Toby sick and the events of last night. You crossed one leg over the other, sitting on the edge of his bed right beside Brain, brushing your hand through his hair lightly. Tim had sat himself a few feet away from you, leaning back with one hand pressing into the blanketed surface of Brian's leg. You didn't know how someone could look so apathetic being so coddled, but you wanted to see him smile, you waned him to feel better.

Two dull hazel eyes glanced dimly in your direction, all you got in response was him lazily looking to the books before he set the bowl on the night stand. For dinner he'd let his arms wiggle free from the warm prison, looking like a hatching cocoon. With the soft ' _clink'_ of ceramic on wood his arms retreated back into the blanket, disappearing from view.

You'd take that as a- Okay, you had no fucking clue. 

When at first you don't succeed, try, try again. Looking for something else of mild interest to talk about, you found jackshit. With a soft grunt of effort, you pushed yourself up from the mattress and stacked your dirty bowl atop Brian's. Something caught your eye, the dull shine of a blackened screen, smudged with greasy fingerprints, rimmed by (f/c) plastic. Your phone. 

"Hey! Holy shit, haven't seen this thing in forever." You marveled, taking it into your hands while sitting back onto the bed. Last time you saw the thing Brian was reading horribly sexual texts about him and the others. You looked down at the hand held device with a pang of sorrow, you missed Sully. 

While you pressed the on button, dim light illuminating your face, Tim spoke, "Christ, if I wanted to be objectified at seven p.m I'd-" He stopped himself.

"No please, Timbert, continue," You peeled your eyes from your and Sully's smiling faces and to Tim's softly mortified one, "Tell us where you'd get objectified at seven p.m." Tutting, crossing one leg over the other once more.

"Tuh-Timbert?" Toby snorted, you turned to him. A wad of his napkin in each nostril, voice raw and nasally, a crooked grin on his face. 

"(Y/n)." Tim's voice held a weak warning, one you completely ignored.

"Nickname." You informed, idly dialing in your pass code _, '8-0-0-8'. "_ So," You turned from Toby to Tim, "Are you gonna fill us in or what?"

Clicking your tongue while Toby weakly snickered. Chanting, "Timbert, Timb-Timbert, Timbert."

He blinked, lips forming into a tight line, "What kind of embarrassing shit do you have on that thing?" Avoiding the question, he pointed a thick finger at your phone before whipping his head to Toby and shushing him.

Cackling, you looked to the screen, it was fully charged. Letting Tim's blunder slide so he wouldn't get too pissy, you hummed while sliding your thumb across the cool yet uneven surface. It'd been cracked from all the falling it'd done way back when. Brian not only charged the thing but he also connected your phone to their wi-fi. You still had no clue how he got wi-fi set up in the first place or what provider he was most definitely mooching off of. 

Though your phone most likely had its SIM card removed, you could still use the internet. You could still use your shitty social media with less of a chance of being pinged. Humming in interest, you opened up a single app. One of the first things you noticed was that you were still logged into your account cursedly named, ' _CummyInMyTummy'._ You tapped on your profile, seeing heaps of square thumbnails, mostly containing you and Sully.

With wide eyes your head whipped to Brian, " _Did you ever open up TikTok?"_ You gasped, one hand placing itself on the mound of blankets. Heat rising to your cheeks and a horrid feeling of dread mixed with embarrassment filling your organs. 

Either at your shock, fear, or both, the tiniest of smiles played on Brian's lips. Progress! If you had to embarrass yourself to make him smile and feel better, then so be it. With a curt nod, your stomach dropped while it was filled with butterflies. This sucked but you were doing it for your Bumblebee.

"What the fuck is tiktack?" Tim demanded, your turned to him. His face filled with interest in mild disgust. 

"TikTok." You corrected, looking at the video thumbnails on your profile. Mostly you and Sully, he initiated the videos most of the time. Though he had an account of his own he wanted you to post some. Purposefully bad dancing and off beat lip syching. Whipping and nae-naeing together while overly acted voices screamed about cheating. 

"What's Tuh-TikTok?" Toby inquired, bed creaking as he crawled toward you. From your peripherals, you could see him carefully climb over Brian, a blank draped over his back while the dress hung loosely off his chest. 

Sighing, trying to remove yourself from the growing sense of silly shame, you filled him in, "It's a video sharing app," He probably had no fucking idea what that meant, "Where you can lip sync to stuff, people usually dance or make dumb videos 'n stuff."

"Hm." Toby raised his brows, processing the best he could. He once asked you what Facebook was, you were sure the whole social media thing to him was completely foreign. One of his hands brought itself up to your phone screen, not quite touching it but coming close and pointing at a particular thumbnail, "Is th-that you?" A still of your smiling face, clearly trying not to cry-laugh. You remembered that night, it was your happiest before the cabin happened. Just days before actually.

"Yeah," A frown wavered on your lips as your thumb hovered over the image, "Video of me and my old co-workers." Almost everyone was there that night. Somehow the stars aligned for once, only a handful of people missing out. You'd all stayed after hours to read customer complaints stockpiled through the weeks. Sully, Emile, April, even your flaky manager Jackson was there, laughing, smiling, hearts beating. Though Jackson was probably still kicking, he never showed his face at the diner when the boys were stalking you. The lazy asshole was almost certainly off their radar. 

Said video was following the format of another video, though that one had gone viral. You couldn't quite remembers if it was your or Sully's idea, maybe Emile's. The emo teenager was always on his phone, willing to throw his ass in a circle for some internet fame. Either way, the video started with your smiling face as you walked into the bathroom, pushing open the door as people began to unanimously hum. It was some video games theme, a hymn-like vibe. Nearly thirty people, the entire staff of the Hot And Crusty Diner, were stuffed into an ittybitty bathroom, two people standing on the toilet, one on the sink, everybody else shoved together with their arms raised at their sides. Many looking confused, middle aged parents who didn't quite get the younger generations sense of humor. Yet going along with it anyway because it seemed to make so many of you happy. 

"Ca-can I ssuh-see?" Toby's voice pulled you from your thoughts, a wet heaviness weighing down your lower eyelids. Bittersweet nostalgia had yet to fade but you were reminded that you were here now. With those that took normalcy and Emile away from you. Toby slit his throat right after Brian bashed his face in next to the cash register, a dull pang of anger accompanied the strong surge of amusement. Tim shifting his weight to coyly come closer for a better view, your mind reminding you that you'd yet to receive an apology from the stubborn bull of a man.

"Sure," His eyes wide with wonder as he looked at your phone, unseen territory of your life for him, "Gimme a sec."

With that, you pressed your thumb to your stupid grin. Days before your life went to hell, running through every fucking ring of it and only going deeper with each passing day. Tormentors turning to lovers while the blood stained your skin, the devil wasn't on your side but luck seemed to be at times. Though viewing the stupid video was for their enjoyment, there was the underlying desire that with every bonding moment, every little laugh; they'd start to see your side of things, finally side with you and try to get out.

Tim looked scared. Toby was screaming, pounding his fists into the mattress, " _Agh-again, again!"_

Your stomach hurt, not from self hate that filled you with a painful dread, but from laughter. Toby's was infectious. You played the video once more, Toby may not have completely understood the references to internet culture but he seemed to be one for absurdism, greatly enjoying the video free of context. His laughter mixed with yours and Tim's clear fear, had Brian softly smiling. Success.

"You really liked making those, huh?" Brian spoke up after the ninth replay, just barley comprehensible, a soft inquiry. 

Pressing the off button much to Toby's chagrin, you flickered your gaze to Brian, eye bags deep and smile weak.

"Yeah." You missed your co-workers, as fickle as they could be with covering your shifts and actually doing their jobs right, they were still good people. Some of which had their lives taken to early, one by you and two by them. You still weren't over that, you probably wouldn't ever be. 

Thinking back to the diner, things were a lot different. Even before they revealed themselves to you, you were still paranoid. Though you thought you were safe, somewhat, there was a looming sense of incoming doom with a startling lack of normalcy. At one point, you started to somewhat warm up to them, thinking of them as possible friends, a potential turning point for your shattered mental health. You did become more than just friends but when you figured out who they were, you thought of them as the literal scum of the Earth. You knew how your opinions shaped and twisted but you didn't know how they came to view you as a play thing to someone worth smooching. 

"What did you guys think of me at the diner anyways?" You set your phone face down in your lap, changing the subject away from TikToks. Smiling, amused at the idea of somewhat hateful reminiscing.

"Every time I saw you smile," Brian croaked, voice rising from a whisper to something much more confident, "I wanted to grab you by the hair and bash your head into the table." Just like Emile. He delivered the news with a blank face and even tone, void of empathy that he could not feel, his eyes flickering between yours slowly.

Your smile fell into a frown, not as fun as you thought. You were forcibly reminded of Emile's broken nose, blood forced from his twisted nostrils, long black hair held tight in Brian's hand, his questions of why. He never got an answer for his death but you did, you found it stupidly senseless, out of Brian's petty spite. 

He continued despite your alarm, he was never one to hide things from you, "Actually, I was disappointed you found us out so quickly. I was planning on giving you a good scare by putting Isaac's bones on your couch." 

That took your breath away, although not like Toby had hours before, not literally. You were at a momentary loss for words. Them moving his bones, making it so you could avoid jail time, conviction; just so they could continue to toy with you was some sick shit. You never knew what they'd done with the bones as you never saw them, in your apartment or in the cabin. Apparently, they took the bones with them from their resting place behind a Walmart. 

"Where did you," You could feel your mouth go dry, growing anxiety making you restart your sentence with a lick of your lips, "Where did you put the bones?"

There was a slight movement of the blankets, perhaps a shrug, "I just threw them away. Forgot where."

Baffled, you let yourself fall quiet and just stare at him. 

Not picking up on your distress, Toby chimed in, "Buh-Brian had to sstuh-stop me from ssstuh-stabbing you mmmuh-multiple times!" A sharp chill ran itself down your spine. Toby wouldn't hurt you now, not too badly anyway. All those weeks ago, Brian must have had to keep him on a tight leash, you remembered distantly how Toby sat with Brian towards the end. You knew how impulsive he could be, his clear lack of patience and tact. It must have been a real struggle for him.

Mouth agape and blinking dumbly, you asked, "You only had butter knives at the diner though?"

Crackling his neck to the side, he continued, voice still a sweet chirp, "Exactly!" 

"What's that supposed to mean, Toby?" The words fell past your lips, brows knit in concern. Past you was so fucking lucky that she didn't get gutted, impaled, beheaded, sliced and diced. 

A grin formed on his lips, big and boyish, "You knuh-know," He leaned his face close to yours, the bottoms of his eyes crinkled in wicked delight, voice dropping slightly, "That I'm sstuh-strong enough to sstuh-stab you with a butter knife, engel." 

There it was again. A pang of fear and a shot of intoxicating delight. He wouldn't hurt you but he fucking could and you were into that. Although, you still needed time to really get into things with him again. After all, the last time you felt this way with him, you dry humped in front of a dead body. The thought of being pierced by dull blades was mildly amusing but mostly alarming, he could have completely rocked your shit. You were glad you didn't perish that way, you'd hate to be the pathetic fuck stabbed to death with a butter knife. Your face turned hot but stony, the bitter memory of Emile's death on your mind. Throat slit by the smiley boy before you. 

Though you directly asked for their opinions, thoughts, feelings, knowing it was going to be bad, you still felt like a fool. They tricked you. Not for long, a few days really but still, these dumb ass hooligans had you fooled. A part of you thought they'd soften up their words, go easy on you. Although you knew you wouldn't be satisfied with sugar coated bullshit, you wanted to hear the dirty details. Cement in your mind that you were hated dearly, that they were awful but things impossibly turned around, that anything could change. 

You had no room to be pissy about it but you were still upset and that was fine. You just wouldn't grievously injure them like you had not so long ago whenever they came close, pissing you off just by their proximity.

"You didn't," You bluntly replied not wanting to feed into his power play, "I stabbed you though." Clearly clawing for some sort of edge other than the heap of love you held over all of their heads. You were a motherfucking drug that was one bitch to give up on but you didn't want to cut them off from it. You were looking to have them overdose, you didn't want get into a cat fight with them anyway.

His mouth made an 'O', "Only be-because I luh-let you!"

"Oh bullshit," You tutted, uncrossing your legs, "I got you fair and square, you just don't want to admit it." You wouldn't doubt him 'letting you win' but your pride had momentarily resurfaced. Angry and strong. 

"I let you guh-go." Toby pouted, opening his mouth to speak once more but the words wouldn't come out, only, _"Ah, ah!"_ Turning his head from you, knocking it back before snapping his head forth with a booming, " _ACHOO!"_ Two blurs of white flying across the room and slapping onto Brian's bed room wall. Sticking, thick snot acting as a green glue. Disgusting yet impressive. 

"Jesus kid!" Tim barked in halfhearted disgusted, spoken with a laugh. He was impressed too.

No one got up to clean it up. You were all gross. 

Toby sniffled, rubbing his nose with a gloved finger. "Bless you." You spoke the nicety out of habit.

"Don't encourage him." Tim deadpanned as Toby shot you a grin. You could see Brian softly smiling, warm and loving.

"I'm just being polite," You huffed, snapping your head to Tim, "Something you weren't very good at while you were at the diner." Or ever actually.

"How was _I_ impolite?" He slapped a hand onto his chest, shaking his head.

"You literally stared at me all the fucking time. It was _super_ creepy and like," You clicked your tongue, " _Really fucking obvious."_ You can't believe this idiot tricked you.

"I stared at you all the time," Brian interjected, when you looked to him he had a playful smile, smug and satisfied, "You never caught onto me."

"Yeah!" You nodded, feeling disgust and fear boil in your veins, "Because you're good at what you do." The words came out slowly and awkwardly. Complimenting him on his alarming skill set was foreign.

"Ssuh-so am I!" Toby chirped, sniffling obnoxiously.

"Not at stalking," Tim snidely commented, which was true his stalking game was awful, "And (Y/n)-"

"Yes?" You batted your eyelashes childishly at him.

Tim sighed though he could not hide his smile, warm, caring, as he spoke, "I literally hated you so fuckin' much," Though he laughed at the memories, there was a weighty awkwardness to it, "Every time I saw you, I got so mad that I wanted to vomit. I almost threw our plans outta the window a few times." There was no regret for his actions, no hesitation in admitting he almost killed you, their actions led you to where you were after all, yet it was obvious he felt shitty about it. The knitted brows, the averted gaze, words getting quieter the more hateful they got, it was clear as day. 

It wasn't a surprise, Tim was a naturally very angry and easy to set off person. Your whole 'throwing a bowl at him and getting away' thing must had put a massive dent in his ego. 

"So," You still couldn't help but shudder, nervous energy having you fidget with your phone, "What changed?"

It was almost alarming how quickly things turned around. You didn't even really notice your growing feelings for them until they were shoved in your face. Toby and Brian's straight forwardness when it came to romance really set things off. Though, you wanted to be loved and when you eventually fully realized your feelings in the scenario where they didn't quickly show you how they felt, you definitely would have made the first move. That didn't happen, they stepped up to the plate with their hearts unabashedly on their sleeves. Tim took quite a lot of time and was still clawing his way out of his thick shell of romantic repression but that didn't change the fact that he'd gone from threatening to bash your brains in to accepting a quick kiss only a few minutes ago.

Silence. Well, save for Toby's sudden grunt that came with a soft ' _pop'._

You did your best to not jump to the conclusion that you were just there and willing, easy. Though anxiety whispered in your ear that it was the truth. You told your anxiety to shut the fuck up, the boys were just taking their time to properly articulate their feelings. The only one good with their words was Brian and he wasn't feeling too chatty. Being depressed and having been non-verbal for quite a few hours before dinner. You weren't looking for verbal essays or word vomit, simple answers were fine as long as they just said something, anything.

Being emotionally constipated was a character trait for Tim at this point, yet he was the leader, the one to take charge when no one else had yet. He spoke first much to your delighted surprise.

"Ya got moxie," Speaking clearly with an embarrassed confidence, "Noticed that the night we met." When couples reminisced about their first meeting it was usually cute and silly; with you guys, they tried to end your life. Taunting you, chasing you, shooting you, putting a boot to your stomach, killing your old best friend and kinda-ex, it was one fuck of a bad first impression. 

Though he was shit with words, Tim had a growing habit of monolouging, "Big balls." That may have been respectable in the three faces of death but that didn't answer why they had romantic feelings for you, "You're hot." Not the most romantic thing to hear but this was Tim you were talking to and the compliment made your cheeks heat up and your stomach flutter. "You get _it_ ," The trauma, the fear of being under **him** , that came with time, experience by their sides, "You're," Dark brown eyes meeting your own, soft and serene, "Sweet." It almost sounded like a question, spoken apprehensively. Not because he didn't believe his words but because he wasn't used to being romantically forward, honest about his true opinions of you. It was unbelievably vulnerable and you didn't know what to say, a wide smile on your lips as you admired his blushing face. 

"And dumb." Tim quickly added, clearly insincere with the insult, averting his gaze with a smirk.

"It's endearing though," Brian added onto Tim's comment, rewording his remark, "Your stupidity," You turned to him, a small smile on his lips and hair poking out of the blanket tightly wrapped around his head, "Got you so far honestly. If you were more of a survivalist type you definitely would have over analyzed everything. We deal with those types quite a lot," This was the most he'd spoken since this morning, "We deal with stupid as well but not your brand of it."

"Meaning?" You didn't think that was an insult and as someone who craved validation, you'd take it as long as it wasn't genuinely an insult. If it was, no sex for a week and a fat lecture on respect. 

"Lots 'o people are stuh-stupid as fuh-fuck but!" Toby chimed in, shifting his weight back and forth on his palms, "We like your stuh-stupid! Keepin' us on our tuh-toes even when we could tuh-totally kill you whenever we wanted to!" His enthusiasm sent yet another chill down your spine. They were ten steps ahead back at the diner, and at the cabin you lived because they got cocky, leisurely with killing. They went easy on you but you still managed to surprise even the most seasoned killers with your wit, go you. "You're just ssuh-so fun to be around too!" Letting his head wave back and forth to get out restless energy, seeming lackadaisical almost, "I dunno, I just like you." There was a juvenile innocence there but that wasn't quite it, it was inexperience, lack of love, lack of opportunities to love. Though you could interpreted as you just being convenient, you knew that he couldn't choose how he felt. It wasn't because you were there and willing, it was because you were you and he liked that, simple as that.

"You're also naive." Tim mumbled, setting his empty bowl on his lap, "Sometimes." You had a feeling he was referring to your almost childishly delusional dream of getting the lot of you from The Operators grasp, you weren't innocent in the fucking slightest but the idea was stupidly naive. He didn't mean it in a way that you were stupid, inexperienced, in need of protection. You'd clearly proven yourself to be a fighter, a dirty one at that. Fighting dirty got you this far. 

"You understand boundaries and communication." Brian astutely spoke of your character, cutely overanaylitical, "Way too forgiving though." His voice dropped from a hint of warmth to flat, he was upset, concerned for your well being.

"Yeah," Tim nodded, "You seriously should still be kicking and screaming, ya'know?" He worded it snottily but it came out in the tone of a concerned lover, of how he really felt. "Glad yer not but seriously, you probably should be. I would be."

"I mean yeah," You idly rubbed the back of your neck, "I get what you mean, but you should know that I haven't completely forgiven you guys for all the shit you pulled," Shrugging while you delivered the news, looking to their faces to take in any reactions, "But that doesn't change the fact that you're people that I enjoy being around. Or the fact that I find y'all genuinely attractive." Their faces only lit up at your words, getting your underlying hatred and accepting your apparent love, "You guys do bad things but you're good people to hang out with," You shrugged, "You're all very different people and each of you have your own unique appealing characteristics." You were starting to sound like Brian, using big words like a wannabe big brain Reddit boy, except Brian was actually astute. "But you're all sweet and funny," You ended things simply, akin to Toby's manner of speech, "I just love you guys, ya'know?" You lightly elbowed Tim, parroting the phrase he commonly put at the end of sentences. Forming them into rhetorical questions.

You were your own person but you'd picked up a few of their mannerisms on the way. Them giving bits of themselves to you, building you up after so harshly breaking you down.

Red faced, Tim dumbly opened and shut his mouth. Toby shot forth, hairy arms tightly wrapping around your front while his face pressed into your back. He rocked the two of you back and forth as he gushed, " _We love you sssuh-so fucking much."_

The roll of man and blankets and Brian shifted, tiredly smiling at the both of you, "We really do," He didn't reach out a hand to touch you, that was fine he was being affectionate on his own terms in his current state, "But I'm assuming you also wanna hear what had us realizing our feelings."

Nodding, you gently put your arms over Toby's.

Tim didn't protest to the assumption that he loved you too. The two of you had yet to exchange 'I love you's. Which was understandable as he'd yet to fully apologize for his crimes against you. Though he'd taken steps towards forgiveness, ones that outweighed the phrase 'I'm sorry', the act of saying the words, fessing up even when it was hard for him would mean a lot. 

"When you disappeared," After you stood up to the twink, when he made you eat your best friend, "It set in for me. I realized that I had feelings for you," He put it bluntly, "You being gone and being so worried, missing your presence a certain way," He clarified for your sake though, "Just made sense."

"I fuh-figured it out first!" Toby gloated, moving his head up to your shoulder, resting his chin on you and leaning onto your neck, "I knew I luh-liked you when you said to me in the alley, _'then try this on for size, rat boy!'_ " He horribly mimicked your voice. You remembered how terrified you were of him chasing you, throwing garbage at him and running for your fucking life. "I was stuh-still mad about the whole you stuh-stabbing me thing," His hug momentarily tightened in a soft threat, "But I got over it puh-pretty quick." He paused to roll of his shoulders back. "I just really," He nuzzled into your neck, "Liked how bruh-brave you were! But I knew that I was totally in luh-love with you when you-" He paused, humming as he mulled over his words, "I dunno actually! Just love yuh-you!"

Giggling, you let Toby rock the two of you back and forth while the others waited quietly with adoring gazed. 

"You're uh," Tim must have felt the need to step up and say something, "You're," As he repeated the word you looked to him with raised brows, "I like you a lot okay. I have for," His irises shot to the side for a second before he forced himself to look back at you, "Some time now. Glad that you feel the same."

Smiling, you pulled a hand off of Toby's arm and put your hand atop his. "Glad you do too."

You stayed like that for sometime, quietly tender. Quiet didn't last in this house and for once it wasn't Toby who broke the silence. It was you, the spark of an idea quickly tumbling past your lips, "I should take you guys out on dates sometime." A separate one for each of them, one to match their personal preferences, romantic as shit. It'd feel normal, they could get a taste of what a less murder oriented life with you could be, maybe. Truthfully, it sounded like a wonderful idea, an idea that could reel them onto your side of things.

”That would be nice.”

”Fuh-fuck yeah!”

”That sounds nice, I guess.”


	49. 48 - Movies, Mischief, Murder

**Mild NSFW and NSFW Mentions. Alcohol consumption.**

This time there'd be no blood and bones. No dead bodies, no survivors crawling away. This wasn't a mission, this was a date. Everything would be fine. 

You had to repeat those thoughts like a prayer as you sat in the stolen Baker family mini-van, waiting nervously for Toby. Tim had fought with you a bit on the whole 'you guys going alone and you driving' thing, like a weird overprotective dad. The last two vehicles you'd driven, Emile's car and Brian's motorcycle, were driven in states of wild distress. You crashing Emile's car and Brian's bike, though fine, was used in an attempted escape, leading you to killing a crack addict. His perception of you driving was a bit skewed, he hadn't really seen you do it either. Always being driven around by Sully and one time, him. It took you and Brian vouching for your ability to drive to convince his stubborn ass. Brian's stalking of you coming in clutch once again.

Now here you were, waiting in the drivers seat with the butt warmers on. You'd yet to hit the road, Toby had told you to wait as he had a surprise for you before darting into the woods. It was typical, and very cute. You had a surprise for him too; he knew that you were taking him out on a date but you didn't tell him where. 

Despite going out in public not being the hottest idea for your wanted ass, you had thrown on some of Toby's clothes to somewhat disguise yourself. His black and white hat, the one with the x'ed out yellow square, covering up your hair. A dull (f/c) hoodie that somewhat loosely hung off your frame that he'd told you with a grin that you co.uld keep. You'd pulled the hood over your head as an extra precaution, looking like a middle school boy. At least Toby thought you looked cute in his clothes and Brian's over-sized sunglasses, his eyes sparkling with love as you had walked to the car hand in hand, he even opened the driver side door for you before darting off into the woods. 

It'd been a solid five minutes of you waiting for him when he finally burst forth from the tree line. He was dressed up, as much as Toby could get dressed up. He wore a white button up and nicely fitting black jeans, and you could say he had a pretty nice ass. He then proceeded to cover himself up with a dark gray hoodie, sleeves rolled up to his elbows showing off his hairy forearms. It was very Toby of him to wear, and when he ran towards the car with a massive blur of green and pink, you couldn't help but smile. 

Tearing open the passenger side door, a loud rustling was heard as the mass of green and pink was shoved into your face.

"Suh-sorry I took ssuh-so long! I got this for you!" He blurted out the words as he threw himself into the car, slamming the door once he was in his seat and thrusting the bundle further into your face, prickly leaves brushing against your face in his excitement. 

You took the mass into your hands from its bottom, brown, cold and crumbling in between your fingers. Dirt. Said dirt was clinging to the mass of roots that wrapped around your fingers and grazed over the empty cup holders. The roots led up to a rugged brown branch that quickly disappeared behind dark muted green leaves, medium sized and shapely. From the leafs sprouted light green stems adorned with rows of fully bloomed pink flowers. It was a bush. He tore a bush of flowers from the ground to give to you.

"Do you like it?" You heard him ask as you took in the spacious bush in your hands in absolute awe. It was beautiful, and while you weren't a plant expert you knew this ones name, weigela florida.

"Yes I just-" This was the second time this happened to you, same bush too, it was weirdly nostalgic but wild that this was the second time you'd been gifted an entire fucking bush. The first time was roughly two years back, also in the woods, also with someone kinda shady. Although she was a lot less blood thirsty and just saw something pretty. Ripping it from the ground while trying to pick a bunch of flowers, and just gave it to you with a bashful smile and a wheezing giggle. You were sure that Toby didn't accidentally rip it up like she did, he'd wanted you to have the whole thing. "I'm just so," You let out a laugh lowering the bush to see his smiling face, "Floored Tobes," His face lit up, "You're so sweet."

"You're ssuh-sweet!" He echoed your statement with pink cheeks. As lovely as the gesture was, dirt wasn't your favorite thing to be on your hands and it was like a flowery blockade between the two of you. Not wanting to seem like you were rejecting it but not wanting it in the front seat either, you shifted, the leafs rustling as you placed the bush on the car floor behind your seat. Brian was going to be so fucking mad about all the dirt. Hopefully knowing that it made the two of you smile so much, he'd go easy on you when you got home. 

The second you were done, you quickly leaned toward Toby and placed a peck on his forehead. You tried to pull back as you dusted your hands off, idly brushing them together, yet you were yanked forward by your hoodie. Lips pressed hard into yours, Toby sweetly giggling against your smiling lips.

It took some time to finally get him off you, turning your head and breathily explaining to him that you had to go as he kissed your cheek sweetly. The clingy bastard was too cute to pass up but you really wanted to hit the road. The ride was going to be a long one after all, roughly two hours from what Google Maps told you. Brian had printed out the three page list of directions, you didn't have data to use on your phone and it wasn't a good idea to use it even if you did. There was also the fact that looking at your phone only reminded you of the life you'd left behind, lost, could never have had because of the fucking twink.

When the two of you finally set out, your level of excitement was through the roof. You hadn't been to a movie theater in such a long time, especially on a date of all things. The last time you had was two-ish years back, with the same person who tore out an entire bush from the ground for you. You'd taken her to the local theater just around the corner from The Hot and Crusty diner. Her writing on little notes every once in awhile, cute little compliments toward you that related to the film that you had squint to read in the dark room. She always did that, write on whatever she could find to communicate, she couldn't exactly talk, the only sounds she could make were the cute wheezing laughs she did. You'd learned only a few signs from her in the time you were together, _cat, rose, stupid, bitch, pickle_. The woman was adverse to the idea of going to a movie theater at first, but you were cute and even back then good at tearing down peoples walls. Also the fact that you were going to see a romcom probably helped, everybody likes romcoms. Man, you had some weird ex's. Then again, you were dating three very weird people. 

The theater wasn't the closest but it was the smallest, Google images showing you it was somewhat run down, probably about to go out of business. Sucks for the owners but was great for you if they don't get too many customers. Less of a chance to get recognized. You knew exactly what movie you were taking Toby to see. The theater didn't play the hottest new movies, though the movie was amazing, it wasn't the newest movie out there. Colorfully animated to catch the artist in him, an off beat underdog protagonist, a great score, and a not boring as fuck story, ' _Spider-Man: Into The Spiderverse'._ You had a feeling he'd just love it, even if it was about a hero and he was an obvious villain. It just seemed like it'd vibe well with him, be right up his alley.

The entire ride he asked almost every twenty minutes on the dot, " _Ah-are we there yet?"_ When you finally pulled into the parking lot, Toby just about fucking lost it. Slamming his gloved hands on the dashboard, exclaiming, " _A movie!?"_ As he pressed a fat wet kiss onto your cheek.

You chose a movie because it was a calmer date. A walk through the woods was calm and all, but the last time you and Toby were in the woods good things did _not_ happen. You wanted something soft and different. A change of pace that you'd both enjoy.

The two of you hurried inside, hand in hand. The movie was due to start in just a few minutes, you were just in time even with the hold up of sucking face in the car. Toby was so excited about watching a movie that he decided to kiss you like you had just proposed to him, a hand wrapping lovingly around your waist as he pressed his lips into yours. It was mildly uncomfortable with recent events in mind, even though you weren't having sex or even close to it. You were just shoving your tongue down his throat, pushing the association with shame and self hate away. You allowed yourself to feel that way to keep yourself grounded, not completely delusional and thinking that what you did that night was okay. Though you hadn't moved completely past it, you wanted to work on not feeling skeezed out at Toby's touch. You weren't completely grossed out by him obviously, as you had tangled your fingers in his hair, but touching him in a romantic sense had you remembering the hate and fear in the legless survivors eyes. Kissing him was an act of trying to re-code your brain, reassociate it with tender-ish romance.

Tim had passed you a wad of bills before you headed out, telling you to be safe and not to spend it all in one place, once again acting like a dad. Defiant as always, you were going to spend all the cash in one place, but also movie tickets and snacks were pricey. 

The bored looking twenty-something behind the resister looked up from his phone when the two of you walked in. The lobby was tiny, a trashcan shoved into the corner and overflowing. Gross. At least there was a slushie machine without a sign that read 'out of order', an artificial rainbow of colors swirling in tandem behind the glass. 

As you ordered two tickets to the movie, Toby bouncing on his heels beside you, the cashier almost constantly had his eyes on Toby's bandage. Toby himself was preoccupied with staring down slushie machine, eyes full of wonder as he watched the swirling colors. It was adorable, then you remembered that he probably hadn't seen a slushy machine in years. You wouldn't have been surprised if he'd never had a slushie before; he was incredibly sheltered after all. 

Slamming your hands on the counter, a wad of bills laying beneath your palms, you firmly asked, "Can I get some skittles and a large cherry and blue raspberry slushie, please?" Every word spat out hatefully, eyes searing into the man practically screaming at him to stop fucking staring at Toby and pay attention to you instead.

His eyes snapped from Toby, looking to you with shock and a hint of irritation. It probably wasn't the nicest thing to do, getting snappy with a minimum wage worker, what kind of fucking monster does that? You, that's who. But he was staring rudely at Toby's bandage, which he'd only donned to appear more normal and here this asshole was, not even trying to hide the fact that he was staring. Though Toby didn't notice, you did and you didn't take kindly to it. Although, you wouldn't get all 'Karen' on the man, you'd take a firm tone with him.

You never thought that you'd get a chance like this at romance, at life.

The past four years you'd been devoid of romantic love, no matter how much you wanted it. Sure, you dated around, been around the block but you'd never really fallen for anybody. There'd been a few times that you'd been told _'I love you'._ Every single time, it filled you with a vile revulsion. It wasn't them, their love, affection, it was you. Your sick association between love and a crushed skull. Past partners telling you either hollow or earnest _'I love you_ 's always had you backing off, quickly breaking things off days after those three words were uttered, or even right after they said it. You knew it was fucking horrible of you to drop people like that. Wanting to be in love, but every time it was offered up to you on a silver platter, you'd reject it and run away instead of working through your shit, standing your ground and not hurting other people. Saying ' _I love you'_ to you while dating was like begging you to break up with them.

You'd been burned badly in regards to love, the last and first time you were in it you fucking killed somebody. Through the years you wanted to be in love but would get so terrified at the thought, there was also the fact that you could never tell them your deepest, darkest and dirtiest secret. Deep down, part of you believed that you'd die alone like you deserved. You couldn't love people you couldn't completely relate to on the disgusting level of a body count, that wasn't in regards to how many people you'd slept with. 

Thing is about dating, no one ever openly talks about the crimes they'd committed. So you just assumed that you'd never find anybody to gaze adoringly at, to feel gut rearranging butterflies, to foolishly accept every little thing about them, good or bad. Yet here you were, looking at Toby's wonder struck face, completely enamored with the film that you were only listening to at this point. The bright colors reflected wonderfully off his features, further shining a light on his sheer joy. It was cute how much he twitched during the more intense moments of the movie. When he loudly slurped on his slushie, throwing skittles into his mouth with vigor, not even noticing the dirty glances the two of you got from the handful of other moviegoers, you felt your heart clutch lovingly. Toby being Toby, he talked through nearly the entire thing despite being awestruck. Just whatever he was thinking, such as, " _No fuh-fucking way!"_ Or, _"Oh ssh-shit!"_ Or occasionally, " _Hell yeah! Hell the fuck yea-yeah!"_ Or just loud unadulterated cackling. He was loudly shushed multiple times throughout the movie but it was like he could only hear the movie's audio because when people whipped around in their seats, a single finger up to their mouths, loudly hissing out a 'sssh,' he didn't bat an eye, focused ahead as the colors danced in his brown eyes.

He's beautiful. Always had been but seeing him like this, experiencing something new and up his alley was a sight to see. You would call it priceless, but the tickets, snacks, and gas were a total of thirty-six twenty-nine. 

You were right about him being into the movie. Colorful and extremely stylized, a wonderful soundtrack that played over the seedy speakers, upbeat yet not without it's dips in mood; he was sucked into it movie from the second Peter Parker jumped off a building, then promptly introducing himself. Though you knew Toby wasn't the best at relating to other people, by the end of the movie he was crying. Maybe because he related to the protagonist in some sort of way, being the offbeat underdog type with familial troubles or if he was sad the movie was over. Perhaps simply brought to tears by the new and wonderful experience. 

As the lights turned back on and the credits played over an animated sequence, Toby stayed glued to his chair. His arm wrapped around your shoulder and you staying in place, leaning over the armrest that divided your seats just to be closer to him. Get a better look at his awestruck face. You got a better look at the natural color of his face with the lights turning on, no more flashing colors lighting up his skin, just the wonder left over. His tongue was bright blue with streaks of green and yellow from the skittles. His mouth was agape, and you noticed with a giggle, drool pooling behind his bottom lip. Completely forgetting about himself, still entranced with the movie even as the credits played.

Your eyes were on him, taking in his happiness with greed and pride. You brought him here, you did this. Well, you didn't make the movie or play it over the projector, but he was here because of you. Happiness and butterflies mixing in your guts, not literally intoxicating but it sure like felt like being smashed. You could stay like this forever.

_"Hey."_ Or not. 

Turning your head to the voice, you saw some teenager, twenty-something maybe, standing in the isle next to your seats. A snarl of a frown and furred brows, hands curled into fists at his sides. "What the fuck, man? Y'all've been talkin' the whole-ass movie." He angrily stated the very obvious observation. You didn't talk like Toby did, only the occasional comment on the film, but not as much as Toby. It was rude as hell to talk so loudly in a theater, but Toby didn't know any better or he didn't care about other moviegoers comfort, and either way you liked seeing him happy. 

You weren't going to apologize, you hadn't done anything wrong and you weren't Toby's mother. If Toby was going to say sorry, he'd do it himself. Though, you knew damn well that he wouldn't apologize to this guy, he didn't know him so he probably didn't give a shit. You'd still acknowledge the mans presence though.

"Cool?" You let the words be laced with a snooty spite, not liking his tone, "We were enjoying the movie."

Toby finally turned his head away from the movie as you pushed yourself up. Sitting upright before standing, not really to come off as intimidating but to stretch out your legs. Slushie in one hand and the other idly resting on your hip.

"I told you guys _multiple_ times to be quiet!" The teenager or man, you couldn't fucking tell how old he was, exclaimed in a huff. 

"The last I checked," You brought a finger up to your lips, " _Ssssshh_ isn't a word." You were in a great mood so you weren't going to go too hard on the guy. He was in the right for being pissed about the two of you being louder than he would've liked. Thing is, he was being rude to the both of you. You didn't take any shit from _anybody._

Taken aback, nostrils flaring, his voice rose, "Well! I was try'na watch the movie and y'all ruined it!" How astute. Though not very aggressive, he was just pissy about the situation. You still felt irritation sparking in your brain.

You felt Toby shift behind you, the fabric of his shirt audibly crinkling with the movement. "Okay and?" You asked while glancing over your shoulder. Instead of immediately seeing Toby's face, you saw a blur of dark gray and tan wizz over your shoulder. 

_**Wap!**_

Your head swiveled toward the harsh sound. You were met with the sight of a body stumbling back, arms flying up to his face. _"Shit!"_

**_Thud._**

In the thin isle between the plush chairs, lay the man who'd raised his voice at you. Groaning with hands on his face, head rocking back and forth. You could just barely make out bright red that had been forced from what you assumed was his nose, dripping down his chin. You only bled from the face like that when your nose was smashed real fucking bad or your teeth were kicked in. You'd been punched in the face quite a few times, you knew from experience that the mans nose was likely bent at an awkward angle and hotly leaking blood.

"Sssh-shut up, asshole." Toby snarled from behind you as you stared at the man. Other moviegoers who'd yet to file out of the room stared in shock. You were trying not to attract this kind of attention, but oh well. At least he wasn't dead. Though knowing Toby, he'd use any excuse to kill someone. You had to get out of there before that happened.

There was a thrill with people staring, the tension hanging in the air as everyone stood frozen and flabbergasted. You whipped around, free hand snagging the front of Toby's hoodie, " _Lets fucking dip!"_ Smiling, heart thumping.

You felt like a teenager again. Doing something bad with the threat of getting caught and punished for something you'd done. Usually something stupidly mild, but at the time it felt like a big deal. Though you didn't feel that was with Isaac, getting away with murder wasn't something you enjoyed the process of. This was lesser than killing, simply bodily harm the guy would recover from, though he didn't deserve it, it was thrilling. This was somewhat on you for getting pissy, having the man raise his voice at you leading the very impulsive and possessive Toby to punch him square in the face. No guilt came with it, he'd live.

Tugging him along as people started to move again, you watched as he snatched his slushie from the cup-holder, leaving the skittles behind. Snickering, you looked to the exit, purposefully shoving past a middle aged woman with a snort. You were not a good person and you knew it, why not own it? You'd already killed people, a little shoving wouldn't make you any worse. It added to the stupidly juvenile rush, you and Toby cackling as you ran out of the room and down the narrow hall that led to the lobby.

"Was that good?!" Toby breathlessly exclaimed as you tore through the lobby, him overtaking you. You still held onto him as he pushed the door open, arm at an awkward angle to hold onto his front while you ran slightly behind him. 

"No!" You giggled out, letting go of him to dig your keys out of your back pocket. There was a moment of realization that if any of them recognized you, the clock would reset. That fucking sucks if it does, but you cockily thought that it wouldn't happen. You weren't some celebrity, just someone who's face had been flashed on the news. Who remembers that kind of shit anyway? 

Though you were laughing, enjoying yourself as you clicked the button on the keys to unlock the vehicle, you knew what he'd done was bad. Punching some guy for simply raising his voice at you was a bit much but you knew it was much better then what he could've done. You weren't about to have him kill another person in your name, not another April. Especially when it was petty. The protective boyfriend stereotype was never your favorite, grossly possessive and pretty misogynistic most of the time. The male character thinking his female counterpart as weak and something he had to protect in the most dramatic and unnecessary displays of strength. It wasn't cool of Toby to punch that guy but it was really fucking funny. 

You weren't a good person.

The two of you drove home laughing. Toby a bit confused on why you weren't happy with him while still losing your shit. He didn't get the whole 'punching people is bad' thing, being a cold blooded killer made you just a tad numb to hurting people. Though you knew it was wrong, the rush was undeniable. You felt like shit after, laughter quickly dying as rational thought set in, god you fucking suck. 

Toby tried to justify himself but not really, " _I cuh-could'a done worse and I puh-probably should've!"_

You let the subject drop, you'd rather hear him ramble about the movie. Once you got him on the subject, he didn't shut his mouth the whole ride home. He was overjoyed with the entire experience, doing something normal people do, around normal people, being momentarily part of society. He didn't talk about that, he was too obsessed with the film but you took it as that, deep down he was happy to be somewhat normal. Though he had a lot of work he'd need to do to be like how you once were, just barely functionally normal. It was a massive step in the right direction, him behaving better than you thought, only being a public nuisance and punching someone in the face one time.

It was late in the afternoon when the two of you got home. Not exiting the car right away because he wanted to smooch for awhile alone before you came inside. 

With a purple tongue that you sucked on idly, you took the bush out of the car, quickly sweeping the pile of dirt from the cars floor. Cringing, you looked to the light brown stain on the crusty carpeted car floor, if Brian noticed that he was going to give you the cold shoulder for three days. 

You had more plans for today, a wonderful morning with Toby that could only get better with another date.

You'd ran over the idea with Tim, taking him to a bar, drinking and hanging out. He was not too keen on being surprised, apparently he hated it. He'd given your plan an okay with raised brows, not taking you for the type probably. You (weren't and in fact had never been to a bar/were, sneaking into bars as an under-aged shit head), mostly just wanting to do something that he'd enjoy. Tim looked like he needed a drink more than half of the time, you were sure he'd enjoy it. He'd also brought up the fact that he was thinking the same thing, somehow knowing your birthday, that you had recently turned twenty-one. You found it funny though, willing to kill, but using your age as an excuse to wholeheartedly agree with your idea. You knew he probably wouldn't have given a shit if you were still twenty, you'd used forged ID's anyway. Brian had recently made you one, your face, height, sex, right but with a few incorrect details such as your name, stupidly matching with Tim's. 'Joe Mama' and 'Angie Daddie', perfect aliases. Brian really thought he was funny and he fucking was. 

You'd changed shirts for your outing with Tim. Instead of Toby's hoodie, you'd borrowed one of Tim's black and red checkered flannels without telling him, wanting _something_ to be a surprise. It was too big on you, so you had to roll up the sleeves and tie the bottom of the flannel into a messy bow that resembled a knot more than anything. When you showed him your getup, he stared for quite awhile, a look on his face that told you that he was losing his fucking mind, but in a good way. 

He tried his best to dress up nice, as much as someone like him could. A plain red button up tucked into black jeans with a nice belt, casual yet it seemed so formal for Tim. Someone who exclusively wore loose checkered flannels and pajamas. You couldn't help but cheekily grin at the effort he was putting in for you.

You'd taken charge in the form of reading out the directions that Brian had printed for you. Passing you the sheets of paper with a, "Just be careful, okay?"

Tim had insisted on driving, trying to play off that he wanted to drive because it was just the nice thing to do. Escorting you to the bar like some sort of shitty gentleman, it was cute. A few minutes into the drive Tim took a big step for himself, taking one large hand off the steering wheel to place it firmly on your upper thigh. Looking quite proud of himself for being affectionate in a way that wasn't holding your hand or accepting a kiss that you initiated, a small smile quirking up on his lips as he glanced over to you. He must have been thinking how he was the shit, smooth as the devil himself, you couldn't help but crookedly grin at him.

The drive was long and not very awkward. Though Tim was like a middle schooler when it came to romance, hand holding and small pecks being a huge deal, he'd grown much more comfortable with talking to you. The hour and a half long drive was filled with soft grungy rock playing over the radio, cursing the government and yelling unabashedly about being shitty people. Over the music Tim would tell you a little blurb about each song, what he associated it with, what he liked about it, which ones he could play, and occasionally how it made him feel. You chimed in when you knew the song or listened intently, placing your hands over his lovingly, earning you a slight blush from the man.

The bar was dim and dingy, not run down but the owners seemed to like the 'ole timey bar for horrible bastards' kind of aesthetic. Creaky wooden floor, a faded polished counter, stools inhabited with patrons of different levels of inebriation waiting for another round. You didn't want to sit next to someone smelling of bud light and piss, babbling about their life problems to the poor bartender. 

Tim could read the room, being notably more experienced at leading others through rough situations. Although this wasn't a mission, this was a date, one you were hoping you wouldn't regret. The waitress told the two of you to sit wherever. In response, Tim gingerly took you by the hand and led you through the room, guiding you around crowded tables of cackling friends or family. On a night out getting stupid, with a home of normal people to go back to or maybe a dog or a goldfish. They may not be perfect people but they were probably functioning members of society unlike you.

"We'll sit here, yeah?" Tim asked as the two of you stood before a booth. It was back to back with another booth, devoid of people. He'd led you to the most empty corner of the bar, the nearest people sitting roughly four booths away. The sound of cackling, idle chatter, and softly clinking glasses playing through the room, the ambiance of other human beings. It wasn't just the two of you or the others, it was random strangers, the two of you being temporary members of society. It was nice, though you still didn't want to get too close to drunken strangers.

"Yeah." With a smile you slid yourself into your seat, him taking the one opposite of you. Hands shifting with the movement but resting comfortably on the wooden table, his atop yours. He was staring, the dim yellow light softly accentuating his features. Despite his face being broad, hairy, big nosed, generally very rugged looking, he looked less sharp around the edges. The light shining in his eyes further complimenting the softness, the adoration. 

From the morning after your first mission, you knew Tim was a lightweight. The lovable idiot got absolutely smashed off of two Bud Lights. Not blackout drunk just so buzzed that Brian had to keep a firm hand on his shoulder to steady him when walking. Tim was one to jump on things at times but he wasn't completely stupid, the guy had to have known his limits. Honestly, you were on the same page as him. This may have been a date and getting wasted on your first official date with your partner was never a good idea but the two of you needed it. A date was super cool but so was the idea of getting a good buzz on, and not the sickening vibration under your skin kind. 

You were following his lead. He was going hard so you were going to fall into step with him. Though you weren't going to drink that shit straight up like he was. Most rugged looking men in shitty cop shows or wannabe gritty video games always seem to get it, whiskey on the rocks. Tim looked the part but he was an absolute light weight so you were only mildly surprised. You on the other hand got a long island iced tea. The drink didn't have any tea, it was just a stupid amount of different alcohols, a bit of coke, and whatever the bar prefers to put into it. You didn't care as long as you felt good by the end of the night. 

"Sorry that I'm not good at," Tim began as the waitress padded off, drinks sitting in front of you, " _This_ sorta thing." He picked up the glass half filled with ice and a honey colored beverage, keeping his free hand atop yours as he glanced at you. 

You got what he meant, a first date at a dingy bar wasn't the most romantic thing in the world, but the both of you were horrible bastards who probably didn't deserve love in the first place. It was fitting. Shrugging while you pulled the cold glass closer to you, pinching the straw between your thumb and pointer finger. It looked like iced tea, a light camel brown, smelled like it too fruity, pine-ish maybe. Yet there was an undeniable undertone of alcohol, not strong, but like a soft and sweet punch in the face. 

Taking a careful sip, letting the taste of cola slide onto your tongue. Bringing the glass closer to his mouth, he admitted, "Haven't been on a date in three-ish years. Maybe almost four? Fuck wait, was it five?" He shook his head, "I don't remember but ya geddit, I'm rusty."

Characteristically unromantic, he filled you in albeit vaguely. Three years, maybe, but according to the timeline of your life, Brian seeing you kill Isaac four years ago it was probably more than that. The timeline was muddied and confusing but Brian was a proxy first, you'd go with three to four years. Honestly, keeping track of time in the situation that the lot of you were in was fruitless and difficult. You had no fucking idea what the date was. Jay died before he became a proxy, Brian watching him for some time before he was enlisted into the twink's murder gang. The timeline of Tim's depressingly tragic life was coming together in bits and pieces. Mostly ones you had to piece together in your head, him not spoon-feeding you dates and such. 

Tim's love life had been halted by Jay's death, leaving him with no closure. Bitter and alone, love probably leaving a familiarly bitter taste in his mouth. You knew that feeling. Telling you of his dead ex would seem unromantic and shitty at face value but it was him being honest, walls down.

Watching with mild interest as you processed, Tim downed half of his whiskey with a single knock back of his head. Pulling your head up from your straw and swallowing, Tim slammed his glass back onto the table with a sharp gasp, looking like someone had grabbed him by the balls outta nowhere. You didn't know if he wanted to get wasted faster, wanted to look cool or what, but he clearly wasn't used to drinking whiskey. 

"You're fine buddy," You smirked as he huffed, "I'm not the best at this stuff either." With Toby and Brian you were soft, vulnerable. Yet there were still the broken hearts left in your wake. Wanting to be loved but lashing out every time you were. The two of you were much more similar than you'd admit.

"I think you're," He squeezed your conjoined hands softly, an unneeded yet sweet affirmation, "Not shit at this." 

"Tim," You deadpanned, "We are ten minutes into our first date. You don't know that." 

"I thought the stuff in the car was part of the date." Tim muttered just loud enough for you to hear, sounding a little disappointed that you hadn't thought of it like he had. 

"See?" You paused to sip your drink, "I'm worse than you." You playfully self deprecated, feeling shitty that you didn't piece that together. It was part of the date and you were just a dumb ass. 

Tim huffed, "No fuckin' way. Have you met me?" He let go of the glass in order to jut a thumb at himself.

"Oh, I'm the worst," Tim leaned forward, looking bothered at your negative self talk, "With romance, I mean." You took solace in the way his shoulders slacked, letting himself relax. Not having to bark compliments too much at you.

"Well," He brought his hand to his glass once more, "Get to talkin'." He was prompting you, the two of you weren't the type to braid each other's hair, you were both horrible assholes who bonded over being bad people, the trials and tribulations that came with becoming shitty and maintaining your status as a bad person. Becoming worse by the day, loving it, resenting it and not being able to change it.

Tim knew about two of your failed romances, Jen and Laurie. First love, first time. Both out of your life for good. There were plenty of stories you could choose from that painted you in the light of a horrible person. Something Tim could understand, but there was one where you weren't so horrible. Well, you could have been if you just had a little more time with her. 

It wasn't your ugliest moment but the little mystery left you wondering. "So there was this girl," Same one who ripped a bush out of the ground for you, "Sadie. Met her behind the diner a couple years ago. Woods." You paused to take a long drink, wanting to feel buzzed already, "Was on a walk, clearing my head from my usual bullshit." The both of you letting out short wheezy laughs, you'd had the habit of storming into the woods to think of doom and gloom for quite awhile. Though at the diner you were on a ten minute time limit on your breaks. "She was just sitting there, pretty. Holding a trash bag over her shoulder. Smelled horrible but you know me," Tim didn't exactly know the in's and out's of your romantic failures, you continued as you took in his confusion, "Chatted her up, well, I just kinda talked at her she couldn't really talk. Made her smile and boom. This dumb gay bitch was hooked."

"How does that make you shit?" He impatiently inquired, bringing his glass closer to his parted lips, building up the courage to burn his throat once more.

"Oh, I'm not done yet," You let out a bitter laugh, this is where it got pathetic on your part, "Three weeks into meeting her after work, she told me she loved me. Carved it into a tree." The message lay in the now healed bark forever, for wanderers to read and wonder of its origin. "Right after she looked fucking mortified," You did your best impression of her wide eyes and gape frown, shock and fear, "Walked off. Never saw her again, didn't even try to chase after her or anything. I'm so bad that a girl tells me she loves me and fucks off and I let her."

Tim stared before throwing his head back once more, downing the rest of the whiskey. Slamming the glass on the table, ice cubes clinking with the movement, Tim grunted out, "Was she yay high?" He held up a hand way above his head, as far as it'd go, "Brown hair, buff, has strong opinions on pickles?" He nearly shuddered at the last statement, cheeks tinging red in what you thought was embarrassment.

"Yeah, why?" Couldn't be. "You know her?" If she knew you and Tim she was sure to be dead meat. The both of your connections with the twink made you bad news to hang around. Even back then when you didn't know of its existence. The thought had you snatching your glass, disregarding the dainty straw and swallowing the rest of your drink in loud gulps.

Gasping for air and setting the glass down, Tim only let you recover a moment before beginning, "You fuckin' dated Honey Badger."

"What?" You furrowed your brows, you weren't some sick fuck that was into bestiality. 

"Sadie." He explained with a huff, "She's another one of us." You'd only known vaguely of other proxies, just that they existed; you'd never heard a name. "Worked with her two-ish years ago. Not long but I know exactly who you're fuckin' talkin' about because she was real torn up over you." The thing about Tim is that he is an abrasive asshat. He doesn't make friends too easily, opening up wasn't something he seemed to enjoy. 

Tim wouldn't pull your leg, you'd believe him but it still didn't make sense for her to be upset about leaving you, it was her unexplained choice. Although you would have probably broken things off between the two of you after her use of the L word. Your pathetic ass couldn't date anyone who's hands weren't like yours, stained with metaphorical blood. "Over me?" Self love was important and all but your opinion of yourself had never been too high after crushing Isaac's head in.

"I don't know any other (Y/n) (L/n)'s with," He shook his head, "(E/c) eyes that you could just get lost in, a cute smile, a good listener. Well, reader." Rubbing the back of his neck, he looked away. He was fact checking, agreeing with the sentiments of a lady you hadn't seen in two years. You cracked a smile at him while there was a hollow pit of regret in your gut. "Anyway, told me all about ya'. She didn't leave because you fuckin' suck." Huffing out the thinly veiled insult, "She left because she was afraid that **he'd** catch onto you. The bastard really fuckin' hates when we're happy, I think. Sadie really cared for you ya'know? You don't suck," With a soft voice he delivered the news, you felt like an idiot, "That much." The two of you hollowly laughed a moment while the distinct clicking of high heels grew louder and louder.

She told him about you. You had no idea if they worked together before or the circumstances of why they did but you knew one thing. Tim and friendship were like oil and water for the longest time. You could suppose he just sat and let her scribble down her problems to the only one that could understand. Tim lost a lover too bur not of his own self righteous volition, still, a lost love burned all the same. There was also the fact that if she wouldn't associate with non-proxies out of fear that they'd get hurt because of her, there weren't many people to listen, read actually. They could relate to one another, something that was a weakness in Tim's thick emotional walls.

"Well shit," You huffed while relaxing back into your chair, "I'm a fucking idiot." If you knew that she was more relatable than you thought she was, would you have stayed with her? Back then did you have the will to ride or die like you do now? Although you should have seen it, no hot lady hangs out in the woods holding a suspiciously wet and brown trash bag. It was a missed opportunity but one that led you here, with Tim on a not-so-romantic date. It was nice. You hoped Sadie was over you. 

"So, what makes you think you aren't good?" You inquired, changing the subject over to him as the focus, asking about his failed romances, hoping there were stories you both could laugh at.

He paused, slowly piecing together what he wanted to say, alcohol taking hold. Not completely ruining him but relaxing him, slowing down his thought process ever so slightly, "I'm an okay leader, paranoid as fuck, and an all around dick head." Shameless admittance of somewhat playful self hate. 

_Oh._

He thought you meant in general, not romantically, you realized with a start. You knew that Tim hated himself, it was evident in the way he tried to smoke himself to death, the way he struggled to sleep, the way he was always willing to sacrifice himself; but you hadn't wanted to hear him talk about it on your date. After all, he was normally very guarded. Maybe the whiskey was getting to him more than you thought. You had never heard him talk about himself like that, the flaws he saw and hated so much. 

Tim was reactionary, you never thought him to be paranoid. Never doing double takes over his shoulder, re-checking the locks on the windows, asking with a quaking voice what every little creak of the house was. He wasn't paranoid like you had been months before.

"You're more than just an okay leader." You pointed out, he was rugged around the edges but he played the role well, "You're a dick for sure but you're _my_ dick!" Tim looked mortified at the spike in volume, a few other patrons glancing momentarily over their shoulders at you, "And I don't think you're paranoid." It wasn't you trying to deny that he had troubles it was more you trying to reassure him. Anyone would be just a bit anxious under the twink's reign. 

He didn't hesitate, admitting the words at break neck speed, his hand tightened around yours almost painfully, like the admission was hurting him, "I still think he's out there." Jay? Alex? An unnamed regret in the form of a person? "Even though I saw the light fade from his eyes three years ago, I can't help but that the _bastard's_ still kickin'."

"Who?" You felt like a bit of an ass now, hoping he didn't think you were trying to dismiss him.

_"Alex."_ The words were pushed out in a hushed whisper, like saying his name would summon him like The Operator. It'd been three years since Alex died, shortly after Jay bit the dust by his hand. 

"You don't see him around do you?" You bluntly reassured, turning your hand in his and intertwining your fingers, trying to question the doubts that plagued his brain. Talk him down into a sense of security, rationality. "Tim, He's dead and gone. _He's not alive."_ You felt like an echo chamber, not knowing how to repeat the message in the most comforting way. With a firm voice, grounding and rational even as alcohol seeped further into your bloodstream. Back at the hospital, legs in slings and ribs cracked, you had panic attack after panic attack. Sometimes a firm and grounding voice there to bring you down from your irrational thoughts was just what you needed. 

_"I know but what if he is."_ His eyes were wide open and wild, voice a dreary croak. 

"Stop." With confidence brought on the need to comfort him and tequila. You brought your other hand and put it around your intertwined fingers, sandwiching one of his scar riddled hands between the both of yours. "He's dead." 

" _So was Brian!"_ Tim rambled on, the soft clicks of heels growing closer, " **He** could have brought him back ya'know? The skinny fucker likes to keep us separate most of the time, have us stick to our groups. Alex could be a part of another group, I just haven't been paired with him yet. Sometimes **he** **'ll** throw us together, have us fuckin' mingle on a mission or some shit. Likes to change things up sometimes, dunno what for, I don't know anything for sure about the fuckin' thing but I know goddamn well," He slammed a closed fist on the table, the wood rattling beneath your hand with the force, "That **he** can bring someone back. _Alex could be out there."_

Mouth agape, you let his words hang thick in the air a few moments before stumbling over your words, you could hear the uncertainty in your voice, "He's not." 

"He could be." Tim seemed convinced of the idea, the possibility. His eyes darted between yours nervously, you could see the fear in them, the firm belief that the man he killed wasn't dead. He was worse than you thought. 

"Okay, okay," You shakily huffed, thinking on your feet as best you could, "If you killed me, I would have fucked you up already. I think anybody would honestly. Revenge is a dish best served flaming hot after all." You cracked an uneasy grin at him, running your thumb along the back of his hand. If Alex was alive he couldn't do much, Tim being a proxy and all gave him regenerative powers, Alex couldn't do shit. Pain sucked but Tim would be fine. There was a bitter murmur of an ugly thought, if Alex couldn't get to Tim by hurting him, would he hurt you instead? He made a fair point. Alex _could_ be alive, the twink intentionally keeping him away. Either through a lack of knowledge of Tim's whereabouts or using its weird mind-fucky powers to keep him away. Still, you spoke with absolute conviction, you couldn't let him know that you agreed, you refused to let this get any worse.

"Can I get the two of you anything else?" You practically jumped in your seat, whipping your head to the waitress. A well practiced customer service smile on her face. If you thought you were bad, Tim was ten times worse. Letting out a shout, pushing himself away from her while also ripping his hand out between yours, forming into a hard fist. He came to his senses before he threw it square in her face.

It wasn't a dead man out for blood, it was your waitress. 

"Yes." You blurted out, Tim was a known lightweight, the whiskey not completely set in yet, but it was undeniably getting to him. Neither had your concoction of god knows how many types of alcohol. Another drink was a horrible idea but one that was way too tempting. The last time you had a blacked out memory, foggy and fragmented, you killed Sully. In some fucked up way, blacking out of your own volition sounded stupidly empowering. This was a date, time to further get to know Tim, getting drunk off your asses together wasn't the most romantic thing in the world but he wasn't the most romantic guy in the world. Yet there was no bonding experience like vomiting together, keeping the hair out of each other's faces while you regretted every last drop you'd drank.

"We'll have Sex On The Beach." You cracked the waitress a grin, she kept on her well practiced smile. Used to people saying this kind of shit to her. "Two straws please, that'll be all." 

"We'll have _what?"_ Tim blurted out, blinking dumbly at you as his brain played catch up with his dick. 

"I'll be right back." She chirped, quickly retreating, probably wanting to get away from the two of you as fast as possible.

You cackled as Tim realized that you ordered another drink for the two of you. The obnoxiously obscene name catching his moderately drunk brain off guard. "Oh."

"Oh is right." You teased as the both of you relaxed, recovering from your little scare. The subject of Alex still loomed above your heads putting a wet blanket on the mood. Taking in a hissing inhale, you jumped to the first topic your brain suggested, "How did you know I turned twenty-one?"

"Oh hah." Shoulders shaking with his laughter, he slid his hand back on table, coyly suggesting that you hold it once more. "You left your I.D back at the cabin, dumb move by the way. That's how we found you," His free hand came up to his jaw, idly scratching his jaw as he continued, "I mean we would have found you anyway but you made it _really easy."_

Your smile fell into a frown, "Ah." Dread stirred in with your gut with the idea of inevitability, everything that was going to happen would happen, like it or not. You were doomed to fail from the start, setting yourself up like a clown. Even if you didn't, **he** would have told them right where to find you.

"I didn't know that." You mumbled, looking to the table with tight lips. In the time after your escape you'd thought that you'd escaped fair and square, made all the right choices. Used your head and got away. Looking back you knew they were playing with you, weak prey. Luck on your side along with your supposed wit; but it wasn't enough. It was a blow to your ego, knowing that you weren't as cunning as you'd believed yourself to be at the time. 

"Shit (Y/n), I'm sorry." Tim blurted out, shifting his hand to rest atop yours. Being forward instead of bashful.

"Here you are." The second time she snunk up on you, you didn't jump. Looking to her with a smile as she set down the vibrantly orange drink, pulling two straws from her apron. Pulling the two empty glasses off the table, she politely informed you, "Just let me know if you need anything else. You can pay at the register." With that, she spun on her heels and made her leave.

Tim looked mildly distraught while using his free hand to snatch the black plastic tube. You did the same, you'd accept an apology later, you were looking to get your blood alcohol level equal to or over zero-point-zero-eight percent. The usual demand for communication dulled by the growing need to simply have a good ole time. 

Thankfully instead of returning immediately to his apology, Tim placed his straw into the pleasantly fruity smelling beverage. The two of you leaning forward on the same page that you needed to get fucked up even more than you would be in a few minutes time. This wasn't a date like in the movies, at a fifties style mom and pop diner, sipping on the same milkshake with the mysterious yet dreamy quarterback. This was a date between two bitter bastards at the back of a dingy dive bar, sipping on the same fruit flavored drink that was spiked with vodka with your strong willed leader. The man you were into, someone who wanted to protect you from The Operators wrath and someone who could burp the alphabet. You learned two days ago and you have never been so terrified. 

Pulling back from your straw with a refreshed sigh, your eyelids fluttering open. Tim did the same, albeit slower and not needing to open his eyes. He stared you down while you were sipping away, creepily cute. He looked like he was malfunctioning, blankly staring with mouth ajar, unblinking. "Sorry about ruining your life, by the way."

It shouldn't be funny but it was, the big rough and tumble Tim apologizing to you. The wheeze came out involuntarily, a wispy snort. The incoming inebriation having you starting to cackle whilst shaking your head. You already ran your mouth as much as you pleased, saying horrible shit like the horrible person that you were.

Being completely honest with him wouldn't hurt, " _You_ didn't ruin my life. **He** did, stupid." Putting it simply, too chilled out to be astute, "You're just a bug in a dryer, huh?" You huffed out a hollow laugh, grumbling out the words as he looked at you with mild confusion, "Up is down, down is up." You shook your free hand as you mused, "You can't control yourself, couldn't help that you called me a whore and tried to kill me multiple times." Thick sarcasm dripped with a hint of venom from your lips. The saying drunk words were sober thoughts was stupid bullshit, you made it clear that you still resented them. Being drunk just amplified how fucking rude you could be. 

It was true, he wasn't in control of who he had to kill or torment. Still, he didn't have to be such a bitch about it.

With a heavy sigh, he shifted his weight to relax into his chair, "Okay, maybe I'm not that sorry."

"Jerk off." You snottily retorted with a smile, the weight of his hand pleasant on yours. 

"For real though, I'm not." You perked up, ready to throw hands and spit out names, "Everything that happened, me try'na kill you, me stalking you, trickin' you, all of it led us here. I regret fuckin' you up for sure, hurting you, scaring you but you can't deny it, all that shit led us here. I'm a fuckin' awful person and you shouldn't be into me, to be honest. We shouldn't be doing this, this shouldn't be happening but it is and _isn't this nice?"_

Feelings mixing more than the vodka, orange juice, and a bunch of other fruity shit. A homogeneous mixture, one that you were unable to pick apart, you didn't know how to feel. It was the alcohol probably. There was also your constant state of confliction.

You just blinked at him, "Okay, cool." You gave him a lazy thumbs up. "Anything else you wanna get off your back, _buddy?"_ You spat the nickname back at him, the one he'd called you when first kidnapping you, sickly friendly and fakely loving. Tim was a chatty and honest drunk and you were a mean drunk. It was like switching personalities for the night, trying to walk a clumsy mile in each other's shoes. 

He took a long sip, the orange quickly draining from the glass and into his straw. There wasn't much left when he was done, lazily pushing the glass toward you when he pulled back. "I think deep down, Brian still fuckin' hates me."

You didn't quite get it, the gears in your head turning lackadaisically slow, "Brian hates you?"

"Uh," He snorted, "I killed him, so _yeah."_ That's right! 

"But you guys act so," You dragged the glass toward you, trying to properly articulate your words, "Cool about the whole thing."

"Well yeah," He wistfully sighed, resting his stubbly chin onto his palm, "Been three years, said our ' _I'm sorry'_ s after hating each other's fuckin' guts for-fuckin'-ever." He didn't specify how long the two of them held their grudges, "He thought it was on me, ya'know? That's why he did it, stalked me, fucked over Jay."

"What was on you?" You bent down, slurping up the last of the the lustfully named sex on the beach. The name sucked as much as the actual act, the thought of sand up your ass crack making you shudder.

"Everything. _The Operator,"_ Tim dropped the forbidden title aloud with drunken hate and confidence, "Coming into all of their lives because they knew me. 'Cuz I'm the fuckin' source of it. Got infected because'a me. Well," He hissed with a slight roll of the eyes, "Petty douche bag played the field honestly. Fucking over me, fucking over Alex, fucking over himself. Stupid." He insulted everyone, himself, Brian, Alex, Jay, maybe you for listening to the pitiful whines of a bastard like him.

Looking floored at the old news that he delivered himself, long standing feelings out in the open. He opened his fat mouth once more, "I mean, that's fine, I still hate his guts deep down too, ya'know? Asshole stalked me for years, kinda his fault Jay went _there._ It's kinda on him the skinny idiot died."

You just didn't get it, "How in gods name are the two of you friends?" You brought your head down to the straw, slowly sucking while looking up at him, waiting for him to continue. 

"History." He sighed for what felt like the millionth time, "We go back a couple years, before all this shit. He was my first real friend ya'know? Fucked me over but I can't just," Shrugging with a shake of his head, he drearily droned, "Let go of that. Really love the guy, he's done so much for me. There's also the whole us not having anybody else to talk to. It was just me and him for like a year. Then Toby was dragged into this shit and I think that's when we pushed all of it under the rug. Had to be there for the little rat bastard, had to work together not just on missions but to help the kid." The drink was gone, the last of it disappearing down your gullet as Tim rambled, "It got better, doing something other than killing people and hating each other. Apologized, but it doesn't change what happened, been years but deep down we fuckin' hate each other still."

"Do you really?" You questioned, straightening up in your seat. The two seemed close, you'd seen the way Brian cared for the man, pouring him coffee and making him breakfast, sitting together quietly when they didn't have to. 

Alcohol was loosening him up around the edges, shaking him out like a robber in a cartoon, troubles falling out of his pockets in the form of drunken admissions. "Not like, hate hate but like, ya'know he ruined my life," With a lazy shrug of his shoulders he droned, "But I ruined his too, so." Understandable, you felt the same way about them. They ruined your life because of the twink, willingly making things worse with their taunts. Your bond beginning because it seemed necessary, needing them to get through your shitty situation. Finding them tolerable then lovable. Yet what they did couldn't ever be taken back, an odd limbo of mixed feelings. You loved them and you hated them, and you didn't think that would ever change. Brian and Tim seemed to be proof of that; even with three years of reconciliation under their belts and a loving camaraderie that was obvious, they still had things they hated about the other.

Lazily nodding and tapping your fingers lightly on the table, you asked, "So, why are you in charge?" Somewhat brushing him off but there was nothing for you to say, he was simply venting out his frustrations in a haze. You were just here to listen, learn, bond with him. You could steer the conversation any which way you choose, him completely willing to answer any questions you had for once. It was opportunistically shitty of you but you were learning about the twink, about him. You hoped you didn't black out and forget all of this. "Did you like, step up or did the skinny legend put you in charge?"

"Well, Toby can hardly keep himself in check and Brian can't handle it." Tim filled you in. Brian seemed to have his shit the most together, seeming the most emotionally stable of the three of them. Smart and competent, though Tim was good at being in charge, sometimes Brian seemed like the better choice. He didn't need you to ask why, confusion was written all over your face, "He can't handle **his** presence, it's like sensory overload for him and Toby." You don't know what sensory overload had to do with him being in charge. "Brian's pretty much subservient because of that, takin' the path of least resistance. Honestly, he could be in charge but he already runs himself into the dirt. It'd be too much for him, I think and he wouldn't want to be anyway. He's fine with laying down and taking **his** shit, he doesn't want to be in charge." Tim snarled, free hand curling into a fist, "and well, I think that's bullshit."

"Me too!" You exclaimed with a misplaced smile. 

"Ya'know what (Y/n)?" He grumbled, looking at you with as much intensity he could muster, "I think your idea of fucking off, gettin' away from the skinny dick bag is the best idea any of us have had in years. Like, sure I tried and fuckin' failed a million times but," He let out a shuddering breath, "Just seeing you throw yourself at that thing to get out and somehow not being dead yet is kinda fuckin' inspirational. I wanna get the fuck outta here, I wanna be normal again but I just don't know what to do." 

You paused, slowly processing his admission with your mouth agape. You didn't think any of the boys, let alone Tim would admit they wanted to get out. He didn't stop running his mouth, "When you say that you're gonna get us out I believe you and it _scares_ me. You could still fuckin' die ya'know that right?" You simply nodded, he let out a laugh that was laced with disbelief, "God, (Y/n) you make me so hopeful, I want this so badly you have no idea."

They'd always aggressively brushed you off, hissing out words of denial and pessimism when the idea of escape was brought up. Tim was finally agreeing with you, this sucked and he wanted out, hinting at the idea of being willing to join you in your fruitless quest to escape The Operator's grasp. You opened your mouth to speak, further drag him onto your side of things. Get him to spill more of his thoughts on your idea of escape, if he had any interesting contributions. "We should get going." He blurted out with wild eyes and you shut your mouth. Thinking of some way to get him to stay.

Tim pushed himself up from his chair, awkwardly shuffling out of it, pulling his hand off of yours. He made up his mind, hastily standing outside of the booth, "Come on. It's getting late and I think I'm going to shit my pants." 

Cackling at the joke, Tim having a sense of humor for once, you followed his lead, standing up from the booth. "Alright," You'd get back to the subject later, more sober and willing to be a nicer person, "You looked like you were gonna shit yourself all night, I'm not surprised."

The two of you snickering, you made your way around partially inhabited tables and past men sitting on stools. Begging the barkeep for another round only to be denied. The row of stools ended while the bars counter top kept going. Leaving space for patrons to stand before the cash register. Behind the register stood a tired looking twenty-something.

Tim pulled out a wad of bills from his back pocket as the cashier mumbled niceties. You'd lost track of time as Tim jabbered away, you trying to get as wasted as you possibly could while staring him down with a warm sense of adoration. There was also annoyance, being buzzed was relaxing and fun but you weren't the nicest drunk around, you were irritable, mean. It was easy to lose yourself and be a total dick so you were trying to pay attention to something other than people for a few moments, try and collect your messy self so you weren't the worst to deal with. 

So when you felt the unfamiliar and defiantly unwelcome touch on the small of your back, you stepped back with a, _"Fuck off."_

 _"What the fuck lady?"_ You hadn't even seen the guy that touched you before moving away, hands snatching his forearm and shoving it away. "I was just saying how beautiful you are and you do me like that? Slut." The man blathered from his stool, a foot or so away from your defensive form. You hadn't even heard the asshole before, his foreign touch pulling you out of your thoughts rapidly.

"I mean, I'm a total fucking whore but can you like," You snarled, self aware but stupid, "Not fucking touch me? I don't know you and you look like a third grader and a forty year old at the same time." It was presumptuous of him to think that anyone would want to touched by some probably smashed stranger. You were a slut, that was true, but you were only a slut for your boys.

"You bitch-" He slid off his stool, landing heavily and looking to kick your ass.

"Hey." Tim stepped in front of you, fists raised in front of his chest, "You got a fuckin' problem with my girlfriend, asshole?" You were lucky Tim wasn't sober, if he was he would have already knocked this guys teeth out. He was about to but you were granted time to cool the situation down. If Tim punched this guy, he probably wouldn't let up til he was a bloody pulp. Battery and murder in public was not socially acceptable.

"Yeah, I do." The man spat while you did your best to step out behind Tim and around the two of them. Neither of them paying you any mind, angrily entranced in their stare down. "That ugly bitch," You spotted the most peaceful solution on the bar counter, "Had the gall to insult me." A half full green bottle that you didn't bother to read. Your hand flew forth, fingers wrapping around the grossly warm and sweaty glass, pulling it off the counter by its neck. " _And_ say that I-" You wasted no time swinging the bottle with as more force as you could muster in an sideways arc. 

**_Smash!_**

Green shards of glass and warm beer exploded on the back of his head. Your arm shuddering with the impact, swing slowing to a stop, hand holding the neck of the bottle, the rest of its body gone. Scattered about the floor and bar counter top. The man fell with the force, taking a stumbling side step before his body slacked and made its way to the floor.

_**Thud!**_

Heart thundering with a mischievous grin, you dropped the warm glass, not looking to it as it cracked and rolled on the floor. You won, you knocked the stupid dick bag out, violence ensuring that the situation deescalated. Wait, that didn't make any fucking sense. Hitting him over the head was you trying to take mercy on him from Tim's wrath but it ensured nothing.You took the responsibility of violence into your hand because deep down you wanted to feel it again, the rush. Tim got his turn being a normal member of society, admitting that he wanted to be a part of it. It was only fair in your hazy mind that you got a spike of sick adrenaline.

People were staring, the bartenders, the patrons, Tim; smashing a bottle over a mans head wasn't a very socially acceptable thing to do. You had to get out of here. 

You snatched Tim's wrist with a, "Let's fucking go!" Clumsily steeping over the man, almost falling over him but Tim steadied you while glass crunched beneath your sneakers. Tim tugged you towards the entrance as people swarmed toward the man on the floor, some getting up from their seats to kick your asses. 

"Get back here!" A voice called as Tim forced the door open with his shoulder, cool night air blowing pleasantly in your hot face. 

"This way!" Tim grunted as he almost stumbled over his own feet, scrambling down the side walk. The hollers for the two of you to return to the bar had quieted quickly, Tim practically dragging you along much faster than you could run. 

You should have seen being paranoid earlier, because he parked the car a mile away from the bar. It was probably some sort of odd precaution that you didn't understand. It didn't matter though, you still stumbled over your feet the entire hasty jog. Tim was much better at running long distance than you, it came with the territory of his forced occupation. Inebriation slowing him still, you sloppily spilling out messages for him to stop. 

He didn't slow down until he unlocked the car doors as the two of you stumbled to a stop. He tugged open the passenger side door, what a gentleman.

"Get in loser." Voice a low mumble as he stepped away from the door, rounding the front of the car. You climbed into the seat with a grunt of effort, pulling the door shut behind you as Tim threw himself into the car, chest heaving as he caught his breath. 

The two of you stayed like that for some time, catching your breath while letting out hesitant chuckles. Your eyes on your hands, resting on the dashboard, trying to keep yourself steady in your seat. Despite the fact that there was the backrest of your car seat behind you. 

"You're a fuckin' idiot you know that?" Tim broke the semi-silence as you lazily turned your head to him with a hum, "I could'a taken that guy."

"You would have killed him." You pointed out, turning your torso to him, putting a hand on his shoulder for support. 

"Yeah but still." He sounded almost disappointed as he leaned into you, maybe wanting to be some sort of weirdly murderous macho man. You would appreciate if he didn't kill anybody in your name, even if you kinda wouldn't care, it was unnecessary. 

"Ugh," You unconsciously leaned over the cup holders toward him, your arm slipping around his neck, "You're dumb."

You felt your hair shift as he grumbled; two hands were suddenly were on either side of your waist, harshly dragging you toward Tim while turning you around.

"Huh?" You grumbled, hands balling into fists and ready to fucking fight. Then you were faced with Tim, his hands shifting to your thighs to adjust you as you were currently seated awkwardly on his lap. His hands guiding your folded legs either side of him while you lowered your fists. It was just Tim manhandling you, though there was still the urge to clock him in the jaw for being so sudden. 

"Do you wanna," Two large hands rested themselves on your shoulders, "Say that again?" Looking to pin you to something, anything, Tim had the wonderful idea of pushing you backward. Directly into the steering wheel.

**_HOOOOOOOOOOONNNNNK!_**

You whipped around, pressing up and away from the steering wheel that momentarily dug into your back. He let up with the force as you turned back around, "You really are dumb." It was true but spoken with a coy smile, knowingly pushing his buttons. 

**NSFW Begins**

That was the last straw, prude bullshit falling away due to being drunk off his ass. Lips slamming into yours with an obnoxious amount of force, your nose squishing to the side. Turning your head to be more comfortable against him, mouths pressing together and moving in a sloppy tandem.

Tim had left the top button of his shirt undone, and you found your fingers ghosting over the skin there, feeling his pulse fluttering under you. You brought both hands up to work on the buttons of his shirt, too drunk and preoccupied with kissing him to do it one handed. He growled into your mouth as you popped a button free, resting your hand on his chest, rough and hairy beneath your fingers. It went like that for some time, groaning and sighing into each other you slowly worked on the buttons of his shirt. His hands tightened on your thighs, pulling you forward as you swiped your tongue across his bottom lip. You let out a gasp as he shoved his tongue into your mouth, a shiver running down your spine at the sensation, your fingers digging into his chest and ceasing their struggle with his buttons. Being drunk really brought down his walls, he would not be this forward if he was sober. Not that you minded. 

He tasted like orange juice, smoke and some other shit you didn't care to label. Either way, him grinding his tongue around yours with a moan had your head spinning and your hands gliding up and down his chest. His reactions spurred you on, the way he groaned into your mouth and shook with every touch made you ache for more. Hazily wanting to further push his buttons, to see how the absolute prudish man-baby would react in this state. So, you groped his dick. Firmly grasping the lump in his jeans, hard already. Either alcohol completely loosened him up or he was the biggest horn-dog on the planet and hid it well. Fingers harshly digging into your hips with a growl, dragging you forward for some friction as you smiled against his lips.

His fingers pushed under your stolen shirt, warm calloused fingers meeting your skin harshly as you ran your hand over his clothed length. You felt dizzy with power as a whine left the man's throat, sending vibrations through your conjoined lips. He was worked up and you were filled with excitement, you wanted to know how far you could push him as he began to grind into your hand. 

_**BRRRRRRRRRRRRRRNNNG!**_

__ **NSFW Ends**

The two of you jumped away from each other, hands flying off clothed skin in surprise, your back almost slamming into the steering wheel for the second time. The dim light erupting beside your thigh from the inside of Tim's front pocket, obnoxiously vibrating your leg. 

_**BRRRRRRRRRRRRRRNNNG!**_

Oddly reminiscent of the telephone back at the cabin, ringing out a call of impending doom. Tim grumbled, scrambling to pull his phone from his pocket, retrieving it and pressing the green button without reading the name. _"What?"_

Brian's voice played over the phone, "Where are you?" Sounding like a mother, demanding where her sons were at such an ungodly hour, suggesting he was getting stupid with the local manic pixie dream girl. "You were supposed to be home by eleven, it's two. I've texted the both of you twelve times each and have not gotten a single response." The tinge of irritation in his voice told you were in so much fucking trouble when you got home. "Is the bar even still open?"

"Yeah, why?" Tim grumbled, not putting things together while looking distraught. Hopefully the idea of you groping him wasn't the reason he had such a terrified look in his eyes.

Brian didn't let up with his nagging, "Are you with (Y/n)? Don't tell me that y-"

_"Hiiii Briiiiiann!"_ You purred, his name rolling teasingly off your tongue.

"Oh my god." He tutted with a sigh, "I'm coming over there. Do not attempt to drive. I mean it Tim, (Y/n)." The stern commanding use of your name struck the fear of god into your bones, "I'm picking you up. Be there soon."

He drove though the night, for roughly an hour while you and Tim sat shell-shocked in the van. At some point you had crawled back to the passenger seat. You glanced over at Tim a few times, noticing how bad off he looked, you wondered how much of the night he would remember and how much time he would spend in the bathroom the next day.

When he got there, Brian somehow mounted the bike to the back of the mini-van without you noticing, shooing the both of you to the back seats, handing out plastic grocery store bags in a huff. He had to help Tim to the back, practically carrying the man to the seat before getting in the driver seat. He spotted the light brown stain on the car floor from the dirt and he just looked up at you and disjointedly shook his head. This night could not end any faster.

"Get up Timbert!" You hollered as you shoved Tim's door open, feeling somewhat okay. Luckily your body decided to not punish you too badly for your mistakes the night before, even granting you zero spots of fog in your memory. You felt mostly fine, aside from a headache Brian had given you Tylenol for already. Brian hadn't stayed as mad at you thought he would have, he was just happy you were okay and just as doting as always. Although he didn't talk to you all night, he was there for you in the bathroom to keep your hair out of your face and rub your back while you puked up fruity regret, a soft sweet smile on his face. 

The thing is, you're twenty-one while Tim was twenty-five. You vomited a handful of times while Tim was up almost all night, gripping the toilet seat like it was his life line. Or so you heard, Brian ushered you to sleep on the couch with a trashcan next to you. Your punishment for making him worry was waking up mildly sore from the lumpy cushions.

Tim groaned from under his sheets as you padded into his room, setting a steaming cup of coffee on his bedside table.

"Faaank yooouuh." A low grumble called from beneath the sheets, a hairy arm slowly sliding from beneath the blanket to drag the mug into the murky blackness. 

"Feel better soon, angel." You cooed, patting the mass of sheets before turning on your heel.

You got a, "Pfffhats cheesy as phuck." Slurred at you from behind. Chuckling, you gently shut the door behind you, turning to head back to the couch for a mid-evening nap. Your body may have bounced back fairly well but that did not mean that you didn't slept until six o'clock in the afternoon. Tim, being worse than you, was only starting to reawaken from the grave, Brian leaving Tylenol at his bedside table that he'd yet to take. 

Instead of the hallway, you were greeted with Brian leaning against the wall, looking down at you with a small smile. "Get dressed, we're going for a ride." Something other than a demand that you'd follow to feel better or him acting like he simply could not speak.

You dumbly blinked at him, staring at his getup. Dark jeans, plain white t-shirt, and a black and ratty leather jacket. The same outfit he wore at the diner, still devilishly handsome and now you knew him as a lover, and even more of a bastard. "Huh?" 

"It's going to be cold out so, put on something warm." His smile grew at your not so subtle act of checking him out, "I'll be outside." He brought his calloused hand under you jaw, dragging your head up as he pulled away. Instead of a smooch, Brian turned his face and walked down the hall, disappearing into the kitchen.

Tease. 

If he was going to wear a blast from the past, then so would you. The few cute clothes he'd snagged from your apartment were the ones you'd worn on your first day back at work. Blue high-wasited mom jeans, secured by a fake leather belt, (f/c) button up french tucked into your jeans. There was something that caught your eye before you headed out, Brian's open closet door.

The thick fabric you'd stolen from his closet kept you toasty as you opened the front door, cold evening air blasting you in the face. Crimson red with white sleeves, his Letterman jacket hung loosely on your frame. Sleeves lazily scrunched up, littered with sewn on patches, a notable one being the iconic 'Phantom of The Opera' mask, another reading 'Golf Club', another one which you snickered at reading 'University of Alabama Mathletes'. The white 'A' on the front the the jacket small and understated. He seemed to be a very well rounded student; participating in sports and clubs of all varieties. He seemed like he was doing well before all of this, accidentally getting mixed up with the operator and losing all chances of normalcy. 

A bright red caught your eye for a moment as the door shut behind you. Turning, you took in the sight of two cans of gasoline. Stolen from a targets garage probably, fuel for the bike, van, or maybe a bonfire. Sitting around a fire and roasting marshmallows with your boys sounded lovely. You looked back to Brian, as dreamy as ever.

"Well," He held his helmet under his arm, already sitting on the motorcycle a leg on either side of it, "Don't you look as lovely as ever." He mused with a crooked grin, his other hand holding out another helmet by its black straps, less cool than his, but a necessary safety precaution. 

"And don't you look like," You were nowhere as smooth as he was, "A million and one dollars." You could try to wink, but you might end up scrunching your face weird and looking like you were scowling. So you stuck to a warm smile as you approached. It was true though, in the soft evening light he looked wonderful. Golden hour as they called it once more accentuating the soft warmth of his face, his light brown hair looking like honey.

Dumbassery always seemed to please Brian, him chuckling and blushing at the stupid compliment. An absolute morosexual. Finally at his side, you held out your hands to take the light gray helmet that looked just a bit too small. Stolen for sure. Pulling the helmet onto your head, you realized it was way too snug around the edges. Feeling like it was trying to pop your head like a watermelon with a bunch of rubber bands. Grabbing the straps, you struggled to click the lock together under your chin. 

"Let me help." Brian softly snickered as he reached out for the helmets straps. With a slight tug, the strap elongated and he quickly shut the lock, securing it, "You're cute."

With a boop on your nose, he pulled his hand back and onto his helmet. The one with the black visor that reflected your terrified realization back at you after Toby chased you down in the alleyway. You lying to him that a drug deal went wrong like a fucking clown. 

You watched with mild interest as he lifted the helmet over and onto his head, securing it into place. The black mass that was now his head turned back to you, reflecting your image back at you. Looking like a twelve year old that was forced to wear a helmet by their overbearing mother just so they could ride their bike. All the cool kids didn't wear a helmet, cracking your skull open on the pavement in middle school was like a badge of honor. 

It also brought up unpleasant memories, the fear you saw in your own eyes as you realized he knew your address without telling him. The way his hands felt around your neck, the burning pain of not being able to breathe, your lungs screaming as you looked into the stagnant uncaring frown of Hoodie. 

"You're staring." Voice muffled but knowing of your discomfort, snapping you out of your panicked reminiscing, "I'm not going to hurt you. It's okay." He held out his hand for you to take, to help you onto the bike. This would be the second time you'd ride with him, no harmful intent, no seething hatred for you, even offering you a helmet. It was going to be okay. You took a shuddering breath and smiled. 

You gingerly took his hand, trusting him to keep good on his promise. You threw a leg over the bike, him steadying you as you climbed the thing. Sometimes you wondered how in gods name you drove the thing, then again, you were likely to have been subtly influenced by **him**. You sighed the thoughts away, a leg either side of the bike and still holding his hand. Scooting forward on the seat, for safety's sake pressing your front flush with his back, hand sliding out of his and wrapping around his front. You remembered his words from your first ride, him forcing you to hold him for safety venomously telling you, ' _Wouldn't want you falling off now.'_ Then you said something along the lines of _'Imagine falling off a moving vehicle that would hurt!'_ You wondered how hard he had to restrain himself from pushing you off the bike while going forty miles an hour. 

Now though, you held him comfortably, feeling pretty safe. Choosing to come with him, not mindlessly following commands out of fear, hands willing to wander. 

His foot clicked the kickstand back into place, key already turned in the ignition.

"Where are we going?" You asked as he twisted the throttle inward, the motorcycle slowly starting to roll down the poor excuse for a driveway. 

"Be patient, it's a surprise." Brian didn't yell, he just spoke really fucking loudly over the roar of the engine. The two of you accelerating slowly, something you took note of when you stole the bike, driving it wearily down the same path. The bike didn't wobble under Brian's control, smoothly avoiding dips in the path as well, like he'd memorized every little pot hole. 

Brian was good with his words but not the biggest chatterbox in the world. He didn't need to point things out to you, knowing you were smart enough to catch onto what he was trying to show you. The two of you tearing past a long stretch of field adorned with wild flowers. It slowly led into a grassy hill that felt more like a mountain, tall and winding. 

Curving the motorcycle around another bend of freshly paved road, you got a view almost as wonderful as Brian's smile. Rolling clouds reflecting soft hues of orange and hints of yellow. Lightly coloring the dark treeline below, turning the forest into a warmly golden wonderland. The sun brightly peaking behind the clouds, the further the clouds got from it the more pink-ish blue things got. The long drive was wonderful but worth it, just being with him was comforting but this was something else. " _This is fucking beautiful!"_

 _"It is, but not as beautiful as you."_ Though he had to talk over the engine, the line was still delivered smooth as silk. Heart melting, smile widening, looking up to the back of his helmeted head with adoration, short strands of hair poking out of the helmet and flailing in the wind.

"Uhhh." You tried to think of something better but your thoughts were bogged down by his overwhelmingly loving presence. The idea sparked in your brain, not the most romantic but it sure was forward and something sure to make him giggle. Your hands traveled up his t-shirt, moving outward so your hugging hold on him loosened. Though you still pressed your hands firmly into him, thighs holding on tightly to the side of the bike to steady you. Far too big to fit in a single palm, your hands rested on his pecs, quickly squeezing both of them, " _Nice titties Brian!"_

You were rewarded with his chest vibrating with a chuckle and him retorting, "You say that every time you touch me, (Y/n)."

"And?" With a hard edge of aggressive wholesomeness you shouted, "I just gotta remind you every time so you don't forget Bumblebee!" He just laughed, hardly audible above the engine but you could tell it was one of his sweet giggles. His ears would get red, he'd have a lopsided grin, shining brighter than the sun.

It took a few minutes to get to the summit of the moderately steep hill. It was basically a grassy clearing overlooking the world below, grass flattened by clear tire marks. It looked like what horny teenagers in grungy reboots would go to in order to bone. Call it something like 'make out point', probably get killed by some random dude in a mask.

Brian slowed the bike to a roll, bringing it just before the edge of a cliff, overlooking the forest below, lights of red and yellow in the distance, a city. You didn't know which one and you didn't care, you were just glad to be somewhat alone with Brian. There was another car parked, looking like it'd seen better days while muffled laughter emanated from it. Two figures in the back window, barely visible through a thick fog that seemed only to be in the car, hot boxing just like Emile used to.

His killer dismounted the bike after flicking the kickstand out and into the dirt, holding out a hand to you. A hand that you took willingly with a gleam of love in your eye. Emile would be so fucking disgusted. 

Tugging you forward, you followed his pull and stepped off of the motorcycle. Sneakers lightly crunching in the a patch of dead grass below. Your smile reflected off of the black visor, the memory of it nowhere near as traumatic as his fabric frown. The same frown you were starting to grow somewhat used to but were still deeply afraid of. 

Hand sliding out of yours, leather quietly shifting with the movement, he brought either hand to his helmet. Pulling it up and off his head, you were graced with his sunshine smile. "What're you looking at?" Softly teasing with a laugh as he set the helmet on the bike's seat. Hair tousled every which way, he didn't bother to fix it, looking good no matter what way he wore his hair.

"You." Tender softness in your voice, the warm and fuzzies in your guts, smile growing as you brought your hands to the little buckle below your chin. You were so ready to have the helmet off your head, squeezing your skull harshly and probably giving you a bad case of helmet hair.

"Allow me." Just as your fingers touched the plastic buckle, Brian's hands were once again under your chin. Working away diligently, a soft ' _click'_ sounding as the straps came undone, falling limply below your face. Seemingly wanting to do anything and everything for you, he took your helmet off for you. Snickering at you as he bent over to put your helmet on the seat of the bike, "You're even cuter like this." He gave you a soft side eye, commenting on your almost definite helmet hair, oddly sticking every which way. 

Raising your brows and slipping on a fakely cocky smirk, you commented, "Am I not this adorable all the time, Mister Thomas?" A hand running thought your hair, smoothing it back before letting it fall into place. 

With an overly formal tone, he tutted, "Ah, so sorry Miss (L/n), you are." His arm suddenly snaked itself around your shoulder, gently turning you toward the cliff, toward the view, toward him. "Pretty, ain't it?"

The soft buzz of crickets and muffled chatter played in your ears as you put an arm behind his back, sliding your hand into the back pocket of his jeans, nice. "Yeah, beautiful just like you." With a quick grope of his ass check, you rested your head on his arm.

Cold air hung around the two of you, a soft breeze as shadows elongated, the sun making its decent towards the darkened horizon. The two of you holding eachother, looking from your birds eye view at the distant city. This date wasn't your choice, it was his, it made sense. He was comfortable at a distance from the world, not talking to anybody else but your little found family. Sure, the situation sucked, but Brian was as comfortable as he could be, unwilling to change. 

You had to change his mind, you had to get him comfortable-ish enough with the idea of integrating back into society, hoping that if he sided with you then that'd change something, anything. Though you didn't know what the fuck a change of opinion would do, you were all still under the same shithead employer. Despite their long standing and deep running river of underlying hatred for one another, Tim and Brian respected one another, understood one another, loved one another. Tim was on board with escape, wanting it, hoping for it, but not knowing what to do. Maybe if you got Tim to admit it to Brian then he'd say fuck it, and join you on your, so far fruitless, journey. 

The date had been pleasantly quiet, calm, a wonderful change of pace. Something neither of you got living under the same roof as Tim and Toby. The two of you loved the idiots but the two of them were so loud all the time. He needed this, you needed this and Brian knew that. It was considerate and romantic.

"Hey honey, I have to pee." He quietly broke the silence between the two of you. Sliding his arm away, you removing your hand from his ass as he stepped back.

You eyed him, "Thanks for sharing."

He chuckled, flashing you a toothy smile, "I'll _be right back_." Famous last words as you'd once said to Henry so long ago. Brian would be fine, nothing bad would happen in his leave. No one would throw a hatchet into his back and bash his skull in with a crowbar. If anything, anyone who tried that shit with Brian was as good as dead.

"Alright," You shrugged as he idly backed up, "Stay safe." You joked with a lackadaisical wave. 

"Will do." Brian snorted, spinning on his heel and jogging toward the nearest thicket. It was a long drive, you wondered if he forgot to use the bathroom before you left. Lining the gravely entrance of the clearing were thick bushes and gnarly oak trees. You didn't see any out houses near by or on the drive over, a man's gotta do what a man's gotta do.

Sighing, you turned back to the setting sun. You didn't want to accidentally catch a glimpse of the man pissing. Stuffing your cold hands into his Letterman, shifting back and forth on your heels. Silence was nice when you were with him, mostly safe and warm. Silence when you were alone was anxiety inducing, any little sound had you looking over your shoulder. Old memories playing in your head, new lovers as old tormentors, you should feel terrified in their presence and comforted by isolation. It wasn't like that in the slightest, your brain chemistry was backwards. You wondered if this counted as Stockholm syndrome. 

**Thunk!**

Gasping and whipping your head toward the source of the sound. One of them was already out of the car, wispy gray smoke lazily escaping from the open car door. Lucky for your nose, the breeze wasn't blowing toward you. If it was you'd smell like a skunk, it was not very appealing to smell like that, especially on a date. The other dragged himself from the open door with a coughing grunt of effort.

It was fine, just two dudes airing out their car after hot boxing the ever loving shit out of it. You didn't have to be on edge.

"Yo, girl!" Or not. Face hardening and arms crossing, you turned on your heel. You didn't dignify the call with a response, it wasn't the worst thing a man has ever called you by a long shot but you were still wary. Men sauntering over to you while you stood alone at dusk never spelled out good news.

"What's the problem? Can't talk or somethin'?" The other called. What the fuck was with men and approaching you out of nowhere. "What'chu doing out here alone, sweetheart?" A spike of hateful disgust churned inside you.

You snarled through gritted teeth, putting on your best 'fuck off or I will literally crazy murder you' voice, "None of your fucking business and I am _not_ your goddamn sweetheart." You were only sweet on your boys and to everyone else you were a threat.

They kept on walking over, you stood your ground. If they got close you'd drive a hard fist into each of their dicks. You were in a great mood from the date but not even the butterflies in your tummy could simmer you down once you got going. Nothing could calm you down but space away from them or their blood on your hands. Murder was okay and all, a fun activity in the moment but blood just reminded you of how much you'd changed. Last year you would have been vomiting at the sight of it, screaming and crying. Now it was a fact of life that you sometimes killed people, one that you accepted but one that you told yourself wouldn't last long. 

Honestly, you had nothing but rage and spite arming you, there was the sickening thought of your teeth but you disregarded that. Not ever again. Murder would ruin the mood. Sappy and sweet to sadistic and fucked. The whole idea of the date was to be cute, loving, perhaps implement the idea into Brian's head that being a normal person is fun and cool. Killing members of said society just might turn him off the idea, then again he did it all the time. They all did and Tim still wanted to take part. Okay, maybe a little murder wouldn't be so bad but still, it'd ruin the quietly peaceful vibe the two of you had going.

"Okay well maybe not now but what if I pay ya?" You don't think sex workers frequented such a semi-remote spot, it was more grimy street corners or on OnlyFans. "What're yer rates, huh?" Sex work wasn't a shameful profession in the slightest, you were just disgusted at the idea that this fucker wanted to have sex with you. 

"I'm not going to bone you asshole." Arms uncrossing, fists ready to crush some dicks. Though you'd still appreciate if they left you be to enjoy your date, "So just fuck off, will you?" A suggestion to go away fitting for someone like you. Telling them to politely leave wasn't your style at this point in life.

"I dunno, you look like a whore to me!" The man let out a sickening guffaw, his friend joining in, creating an ear-bleeding cacophony.

You didn't notice his quick approach until he was practically behind the guy, eerily quiet and stone faced. Towering over the other man by an entire head, falling in step behind him while a big hand reached around his front.

"Hahaha- _HUURK!_ " The stranger grunted as Brian's massive hand clamped around his neck, lifting him off the ground and spinning him around. 

"What the fuck?!" The other stranger staggered back while Brian dangled his buddy a foot off the ground. Free hand reaching into his jacket pocket while he glanced to you. Quirking his brow with a crooked smile, a silent 'get a load of this guy' while he pulled out a black mass from his pocket.

It was an acknowledgement of what he was about to do, how unnecessary it was. Punching their lights out was the much more peaceful option or just staring them down till they scampered off; you knew from experience he could strike fear into even the most courageous hearts. Instead, he was very obviously going to kill the stranger while his buddy yelled at him, too dumb to run. He didn't have to do this but he was going to, he wanted to, all the while casting you a humored glance. Making a quiet joke of his struggle which literally anyone being choked and held off the ground would do. 

Heart pounding in your ears with the soft _'fwick_ ' of the pocket knife snapping its blade free. There was no feeling of it coming, no buildup, it was just there ready and willing to watch, to joke, to join. The rush.

You'd thought about it in passing but decided against it because it'd kill the mood. Yet here Brian was, driving the knife back before jutting it into the mans soft belly. Killing was a-okay, you didn't have to worry about ruining the mood because it had already turned around. The man was already screaming, reflexively trying to grab at the knife. Sure, this wasn't what you were aiming for but the dull beats in your ears told you that this was fine. Blood lust telling you to watch, telling you to take the other, telling you that this was so much better than silently staring at the sunset. The two of you were totally fucked and in the moment, fucked felt pretty great.

Gargling out screams of bloody murder, the man decided against trying to get Brian's hand off the knife. Instead his panicked brain told him to pound his fists on his strong shoulders, exposing the dark red sheen on Brian's fist. The strangers buddy finally wising up, made a mad dash for the car. As Brian pulled the blade out of the man, you threw yourself toward the lot of them. With a violent and forceful movement of his forearm, the pocketknife was back into the stranger's body. Rearranging his guts better than the man had ever done to anybody else.

Shock must have been taking him over, slowing his weak punches on Brian's shoulders down. Body starting to betray him with it's attempt at living, deciding to go limp, if he didn't wriggle then maybe he'd do less damage to his innards. Maybe it was because it got to be too much for his body to handle, giving out so he wouldn't have to suffer, going into shock from lack of oxygen and adrenaline. Either way, his arms slacked at his sides, head lulling forward, feet limply pointing downward.

With a look of satisfaction and distaste, Brian unlodged the knife from his gut, harshly throwing his bleeding body to the ground with a wet thud. 

Casting you a cheeky grin after giving the body an intensely hateful glare, he held out the glistening knife loosely. An offer.

One you didn't refuse. Feet thumping on the grass and dirt below, you held out your palm as you began to pass him. A seamless trade off of the weapon, a murderous tag team.

Knife in hand, one dead and the other all yours, running for their pathetic excuse of an existence. A singe wide eye looked your way as he glanced over his shoulder. Bulging with terror with your approach, his dead friend on the ground behind you. His yelp, slight pickup in speed, only had you all the more eager to have him dead as a door nail. You didn't even care that his friend called you a whore, that they thought it would be fun to mess with a lone woman; you just wanted blood, and Brian starting it had you hungry to finish it. 

Though he had a head start, you were quickly gaining. Nothing mattered to you but going faster and filling him with holes. You were practically on his ass as he tore the drivers side door open. It was useless, you were too close now, his back turned to you. Opting to run instead of fight. Pussy.

Diving forward for the keys that were left forgotten in the cup-holder, he left his back wide open. Lacking in slits of gargling blood. You helped the guy out, driving the knife down toward his general direction. As long as it hit him you'd be happy. And hit him you did, knife forcing its way past his clothes, his skin, sinking just barely into him before it hit something hard. A thick bone perhaps, his shoulder blade, spine or a rib. You didn't care. 

Screaming, he snatched the keys and jammed them into the ignition as you tore the knife from his back. Disappointed it didn't go in as deeply as you would have liked. The cars engine roared to life as you rose the knife once more, him trying to further drag himself into the vehicle. This time the reddened blade sunk further into him than just the tip. A wet squelch emitting from his back, sinking in somewhere below his ribs and beside his spine, no bone in the way to be harshly prodded at. You were no certified doctor but you were pretty sure the gargled screech, his body shaking, the pooling dark stain around the new found hole in his back meant that he was hurt badly. Good.

One foot kicked back at yours while the other attempted to slam onto the gas. Grunting in effort, trying to tug the knife from his back, legs buckling with the hard blow. The vehicle lurching forward as his foot found the gas, him hanging half-way out the open car door. 

You were off the ground, pulled back with an angry whine, hand shaking with adrenaline. Slathered in hot blood and empty. _"No!"_ You childishly snarled, clawing at the warm leather that had wrapped around you, Brian's arms. 

"Hah! Stupid bitch!" The stranger called as the car screeched forward. Right off the cliff. There was a split second where time seemed to slow, the car hovering in the air, no support beneath it. Time resumed with his panicked, _"Oh shit!"_ The car hurling itself downward and out of your view.

Blinking with mouth agape, you ceased your needless struggle, greedy for blood. "Thanks, I thought he was going to get away."

A soft laugh followed by a, "No problem." 

_**Crunch!**_

The harsh sound was cringe-worthy. He didn't put you down as he sauntered over to the cliffs edge. Leaning forward as much as you could while dangling from his arms, you saw it. The cars front caved in only momentarily as it spun, having slammed into one of the winding roads below. Cartoonishly bouncing through the air after the in first impact. Making its way towards a much less steep incline.

_**Crunch!**_

The sound played through the air again as the cars side met the grassy hill, tearing patches of grass away as it tumbled down. The two of you watching, you awestruck as it tipped and turned over itself, practically death rolling the man who was miraculously still inside the car. You could just barely make out his legs, an odd blur.

_**Smash!**_

Its movement finally ceased by a thick tree, the cars center caving in around it. An explosion of glass, metal, and wood. You couldn't fucking believe it, this was all because of you. You deciding to take the kill instead of letting Brian go for it. He would have killed the guy before he got anywhere near his car. Eyes wide, adrenaline rushing from the idea that you could have gone down with him, killing and almost dying having you laughing in disbelief. 

The car bursting into an orange ball of fire only made things better. 

"Holy fucking shit!" You marveled, wishing you could feel the heat of the flames on your face. Though you were off the shits, you still had a few working brain cells that told you no for the sake of preservation. 

Self preservation was something you had to have if you weren't a proxy. Physical wounds could kill, if you just accepted your clearly inevitable fate into your heart. You could love instead of lose, feel the rush so fucking much, all you had to do was accept it. Stop fighting.

**No.**

The rush was quickly fading away, leaving you shaking and warm. Terrified at the foreign thoughts, implanted into your brain by the unseen stick man. Did he subtly influence the men to be so disgusting? Causing Brian to probably think that this was a perfect opportunity. Kill in front of and for you. Members of society gone because of the two of you, normalcy unobtainable. Integrate murder into your date, into what was becoming your normal, what was already his. Looking to make you more okay with this, the idea of severance from the normal world, the idea of becoming a proxy. 

"Brian-"

"Yes, sugar?" A low drawl spoken right into your ear as he pressed a kiss into your neck. A chill crawling it's way up your spine. Fear gripping you, not of him but of what you could so easily become. Tensing in his hold, being basically dangled off a cliffs edge. Usually you were grossly into this sort of thing, you still kinda were but you weren't looking to get too hot and heavy.

A kiss would be nice though. Would that could as melting into the twink's grip? Accepting disgusting loving, his hands slathered in blood, right after the wave of unnatural thoughts bombarded your brain. You wanted comfort but you weren't going to risk it.

"Put me down." Tone grave and low, eyes on the raging fire below. 

He didn't seem to get it, perhaps too lost in his thoughts that you were accepting the outcome becoming like him, that you had enjoyed that. Maybe wanting to believe that the tremor in your voice was playful terror, looking to start something heated. Wanting to ignore your still strong standing will, urge to fight the unfightable. 

"Are you sure?" He jested, "It's a long way down." Arms around you teasingly loosening, your body just barley slipping before his grip tightened once more.

_"I'm serious."_ This wasn't you trying to get laid in a coyly kinky kind of way. This was you needing to go home, needing the both of you to shower away the blood, hit reset on your date. Try again at the whole normal-ish romance thing. Not forget your growing kill count, accept that you were total shit but you still had this. A weak sense of normalcy, trying so hard not to crumble beneath what felt like the weight of the world. You just needed tastes of normalcy, the regular life you were striving for, it helped keep you going.

That seemed to do the trick, the flames disappearing from view as he turned and stepped away from the edge of cliff. Feet touching the ground once more, arms hesitantly releasing you as you looked to the crushed mix of grass and dirt, shaped in the form of tire marks. You caused that, the man so desperate he forgot about an entire fucking cliff. Thinking it was awesome, the way the car crunched and turned over itself. You couldn't do this, you couldn't be here.

Whipping around and taking an unconscious step away from the cliffs edge, "We shoul-" You paused, taking him in. Face only speckled with itty bitty dots of red, the most concentrated splatters shining darkly off the front of his leather jacket, white t-shirt adorned with uneven splotches. Looking down at you with concern. May it be for your panic or the fact that he was catching up, putting it together that you were rejecting the ideas that **he** was leading you to. Rejecting integrating into your life as a proxy.

His sympathy, desperation for you to conform for your own safety, showing itself on his face. He was good with words, he could talk you into comfort, change didn't happen in comfort. You wouldn't push him away and become distant but you would make your intent crystal clear, whether he likes it or not. 

"Don't." He deadpanned with a stern brow. He didn't need to weave an intricate argument for his feelings, you understood him completely.

Yet that didn't mean that you were going to go with what he wanted. "But-"

"No." He shut you down in an instant with an icey glare. One that made you want to back down, deep down you didn't want to upset him but you had to rock the boat. Freedom and change would not come in comfort.

Taking a moment to gather yourself, you took in a shuddering inhale. Standing your ground and articulating your thoughts. You weren't one to hold in secrets with them, you were going to put all your cards on the table. Gulping down you fear at the of his bloodied form, you internally reminded yourself that he wasn't just a vicious murderer. You loved him, that's why you had to resist his temptations, that's why you had to tell him things he didn't want to hear. "Tim thinks escape is a good idea. He said I make him hopeful, he thinks we can do it. We can get out of here." Speaking with conviction, hoping your leaders opinion would change his tune.

Face growing flat, unhappy, clear disagreement passing over his face.

"Tim thinks _a lot_ of things." The sharp retort having your stomach in heavy knots. "Especially when he's drunk."

You desperately clawed for leverage, still playing the Tim angle, "He says that you guys used to be close, that's true isn't it?" No response, just him staring you down. Eyes trying to will you to shut up and give in. You'd take that as confirmation, "I know that you have your history and all, but doesn't his opinion matter to you?" Tim's opinion felt weighty to you, a brick to throw at a glass house. You hoped that the dumb reminder would suddenly turn Brian around, him following the unspoken will of his leader.

Instead he spoke, "Did he tell you about _Marble Hornets?"_ Intense and interrogating, you didn't shrink under his gaze as he crossed him arms and stared you down flatly. 

"You mean Alex's shitty movie?" You remembered that morning, Tim deciding to sit his fat ass on your chest, your head on Brian's lap. You had no idea what a cringe worthy student film had to do with anything.

"No." Flat and simple, he wasn't thrilled to be talking about this, "It was Jay's video dairy." Now that piqued your interest but before you could inquire about what relevance that had, he continued, "You know what he did (Y/n)?" It was a rhetorical question, you didn't get a say, "He was nosy. He didn't know when to stop. _He made things worse."_ You had a sinking feeling of dread that he was comparing you to the dead man. There was a quiet growl to his voice, thinly veiled rage seeping through his usually flat tone when upset. "He and Tim got all of it on camera. Putting it out there for anyone to just _see._ " This was turning into an angry ramble, unnecessarily long and jarring, "It's all gone now. Tim deleted it all but people still saw it because they got everything on tape; Jay's death, Alex's death, _my_ _death."_

You didn't doubt him for a second, rattling things off with an angry conviction. It seemed voyeuristic to record that kind of shit, posting it was another level of fucked up. The feeling was unknown to you but you bet it was deeply violating to have strangers watching him die.

"And then he got what he deserved. Paid for everything that he did with his life." He finished his hateful aside, letting the semi-silence of nature taking over. Crickets buzzing in your ears, way too close to the twig's buzz but not quite there. 

He was telling you to stop your softly extreme acts of defiance, going against the grain, doing things unwanted by those around you would only get you killed, just like Jay. 

_"How much do you hate **him**?"_ You hissed, throwing a question of your own at him. You didn't want to talk about Jay or whatever happened in the past. You wanted to talk about _now_ , about what you could all do. 

He tensed, lips forming into a tight line, staring you down. You waited for a response, you weren't going to throw a rhetorical question at him like he did for you. Time ticked on by, Brian still visible but in a dark blue hue, the moon rising.

"A lot." Short and final, sure. Feeling like a reward for your patience, like admittance to the fact that he wanted this too.

"To be honest with you Brian," You drearily croaked, tired and cold despite his warm Letterman, "It's not enough."

If the lot of you wanted to get out of this fresh hell, he needed to man up. Hate **him** with even more of a fiery passion, you knew he was capable of it. A lot was a lot, but not a good answer, weak submission to circumstance. Just a leaf in the wind. To get out of here, he needed to strengthen his resolve, fight it like you were, like Tim could. Though he may be overwhelmed by **his** direct presence, he could still preform acts of defiance in **his** absence. Brian was smart enough to know when things around him were being subtly manipulated, if he wanted to, he could stop playing into The Operators will. You didn't know what that would do, but it was working for you so far. 

"I know." The confirmation you were afraid of but were not surprised by. "Nothing will change from whatever it is you think that you're doing, (Y/n)." His words as obvious to him as yours had been to you. Trying to get you to softly admit defeat.

_"I call bullshit. We're going to get out of here."_


	50. 49 - Begging For Trouble

**Straight up NSFW / Heavy mentions of NSFW.**

The ride back was pretty, passing stars and just barely visible clouds outlined by the light of the moon. It wasn't quiet with the roar of the engine but neither of you spoke, what needed to be said had been said. Talking for the leisurely sake of it didn't feel right. The words exchanged between the two of you were blunt and final. There was no agreeing to disagree, no compromise. The two of you were unhappy with the others opinion but there was nothing either of you could do. Through hell and high water you'd kept your resilience, venomously spiteful. Much like the three-in-one he once used, he was a dark temptation, trying to lure you to the side of submission and misery. The both of you were tough nuts to crack, you both needed time to think, to plan out the next steps taken in the name of love.

You don't know what would count as 'giving in' at the moment. If affection towards any of them after the events that only played out a few hours ago counted or just Brian. If the window for accidental submission was just tonight or for forever. You didn't know. Yet you still wanted someone to talk to. The need to connect to someone who would actually talk to you or not grumble about a headache. Someone who you hadn't exclusively talked in depth about the idea of escaping the skinny taint. You knew they all hated the idea, paralyzed by fear, too pussy to stand up to what could qualify as a god. Here you were though, weaker and without regenerative power, constantly fighting, telling it to kiss your ass. This didn't make your boys weak, they had seen more of this thing than you ever had or ever want to, and you understood their apprehension and fear. You just had to convince them.

Toby was a firecracker in his own right, you just hoped you could get him onto your side. You'd earned a drunken admission from Tim, a confession that you'd read in between the lines to find from Brian; you wondered how Toby would respond. Even though to some degree the others wanted this too, escape, they were still going to fight you on it every step of the way. You just wanted one ally, one person to uplift and shamelessly support the idea. Toby was your best bet. 

That's why you lay on his bed, flat on your belly, waiting for him. Donning his shorts which were anything but short on you, the lanky fuck was almost all legs. The basketball shorts fell past your knees. As well as the sweater you'd almost forgotten about, _'Big Dick Is Back In Town'_ it boldly proclaimed. Though you weren't returning anywhere and you had a lack of a dick, if you had one you knew it'd be fucking massive. You just had that sort of energy.

The boy was about to shower when you'd come home, you and Brian wordlessly going about your nightly routines. Toby offering you up a turn in the shower which you gratefully took and him taking Goober out for an evening walk. You'd taken your crosswords from Brian's bedside table, knowing it was going to be a bit of a wait. As after you got out, Toby hopped right in. Toby sometimes took agonizingly long showers. He wasn't being thorough with his cleaning though, he was likely spacing out, using all the hot water. 

Brian had told you something about Toby earlier that day, with a cheeky grin while the two of you were on better terms. Toby had taken up a new word into his vocabulary lately, yesterday night actually. You'd passed out drunk by that point but apparently Brian showed him this website he sometimes browsed, _'Twitch'._ A streaming website, mostly gaming. You didn't take Brian for the gaming type but they were full of surprises. Showing Toby some streamers he liked, the boy became enamored with the chat feature. Especially the little emoticons that people wildly sent out whenever something exciting happened in game. According to Brian, Toby thought one specific emoticon was the funniest fucking thing ever. A simplistic illustration of a shocked and awestruck looking 'Pepe The Frog'. Hearing that sequence of words from someone as horrifying as Brian had you almost sobbing. Toby had taken a shine to it, a shine to a little piece of internet culture, a shine to being a normal-ish person. The second he learned the emotes name, he hadn't stopped saying it whenever something he thought was cool happened. 

It made you hopeful, he was so excited about a little slang term that normal people used. It made you think that he'd be more open to the idea of integrating back into society if you used silly things like that as bargaining chips. You got a prime example of his enthusiasm for the word, upon him finally seeing you up at six P.M.

" _(Y/n)'s ah-awake! Puh-poggers!"_ You smiled at the memory, he was too cute for his own good. You'd gotten to hear it a few more times, when he finished a drawing he'd worked on for a long time, " _Poggers!"_ When he heard about how much a lightweight Tim was but only after hearing that he'd be completely okay, " _The oh-old man can't fucking hah-handle two drinks? Poggers!"_

As you snickered to yourself, finishing yet another crossword which had turned out to be way too easy, the door swung open. The only things that covered his skin were a brown towel slung lazily over one shoulder and gray sweatpants hanging low on his hips, the band of his boxers peaking out of his sweatpants cutely. His hair was sticking to his forehead in twirling curls, his chest bare. Toby wasn't the most muscular guy out there but there was clearly some muscle there. Though there weren't deep and dramatic dips and valleys that would portray a six pack, he had more subtle abs. There but not the most noticeable. Either way, he could throw you across a football field. You suspected it was a product of him being a proxy, the tall fuck granting all of them disgusting amounts of strength so they could get the job done that much easier.

Toby was hairy, super hairy. There was a concentration of hair on his jaw, forearms, chest, and the newest area of concentration to your knowledge ran just bellow his belly button and straight into his sweatpants. A thick and obvious happy trail that you were _very_ invested in.

"Hey (Y/n)!" He shut the door behind himself and let the towel fall to the floor as he approached, gleefully stating, "Didn't th-think you'd be in here. But! I'm guh-glad that you a-" At his noticeable pause in gait and speech, you snapped your eyes from his happy trail to his mildly surprised but smug gaze. 

"I wasn't staring at your dick, I swear." You jokingly defended yourself, the crossword booklet falling closed at your lack of attention to hold it open. It was a half-truth, you were staring at the area just above his dick although you were three seconds away from trying to see if you could see anything. The thing about having a rough night, killing a guy and having an intensely conversation-less ride home, is that you're a little tense by the end of it. Any sort of distraction would do, especially in the form of finally getting to check Toby out without a shirt. Though being pissy at Brian led you here, he was the farthest thing from your mind. 

"You wuh-were." Toby snickered, straightening up and continuing his gait with a noticeable amount of confidence. "You're sstuh-still sst-staring," The statement was obvious, you'd made no attempt to hide the fact that you were checking him out.

With a smirk you rolled onto your side and drawled, "Maybe I am."

Did this count as giving in? Looking him up and down, excited by his approach, happy about the energy that was settling over the room. Was this surrender to **his** plans? Couldn't be, Toby wasn't covered in blood and actively and knowingly trying to make you give into The Operator's will. Although there was still a part of you that said that this was a bad idea. What if it _did_ count? Then you'd be totally fucked. 

Walking away, trying to push them away, isolating yourself was a one way ticket to **him** being able to break your psyche like a brittle stick. You had to choose, you'd obviously go with the option that led to intimacy. 

So you continued, pushing the crossword booklet off the bed and propping your head onto a single hand, "You're pretty." There was hot, cute, handsome, but those labels didn't feel right even though they described the same thing. Hot and cute felt too generic, sweet but basic. Handsome felt like something a doting parent would call their pizza-faced teenage son on prom night. Beautiful was an option but that would be too strong, too much. Pretty was the same thing just a bit more dainty, loving. 

**NSFW Begins**

Your other hand was laying in front of your stomach on the bed sheets, trying to contain yourself from being too nasty too quickly. It was what was referred to as a 'horny grip'. 

His smirk melted into a little look of shock, he still wasn't very used to romantic affection directed toward him. With lips breaking out into a joyful grin, he finally stood at the foot of the bed, your eyes following him the whole way. 

"You're puh-pretty." He parroted while you rolled onto your back to face him properly.

The bruises on your breasts were still fresh, still achy to the touch. Eyes that bore into yours, fear and disgust, a look you could never forget. Did you really want this? The association with Toby and intimacy soiled by blood, cum in his pants, and bad timing. You loved him, wanted him to feel more than okay but you didn't owe him your body because you felt bad for how you treated him after that night. Yet you wanted things to get better, for you both, you wanted this not out of a pitiful obligation, but because it'd feel good, it'd be fun, it'd be an act of trust and respect. It'd be better than that night, show you how intimacy with him could _really_ be. No dead bodies and half bled out survivors to watch, just the two of you. And Tim who was still in his room. And maybe Brian if he came home earlier than normal, his walks with Goober were often long. He liked the peace, the quality time with the baby that the two of you shared. 

Tim was probably knocked out anyway. If he wasn't, _oh well._

"Okay so, idea." You were going to shamelessly steer the situation into one that had him on top of you, "You're pretty, you think I'm pretty, why don't you come here so we can get a better look at each other?" For extra measure, you brought up a hand to beckon him with a shit eating smirk.

Leaning forward and lowering himself, hands pressing into the the end of the mattress, "I like th-that idea." He was gloveless for once, being fresh out the shower it made sense. It was nice to see his heavily scarred hands once more, it was even nicer to imagine all the shit they could do to you. If Toby was more experienced in this sort of thing that is. You'd just have to show him the ropes.

"Then what are you waiting for?" You grinned, propped up on a single elbow. 

Jump starting Toby's brain with your words, he finally lurched forward. Hands sliding forward while one knee after another came up onto the bed.

"I dun-dunno." He admitted, crawling toward you. Being the courteous lover that you were, you shifted your legs to make room for him. Bending them and spreading them apart, that way he'd have a much easier time getting over to you and have a chance to be much closer. Noticing this he quickened his advance, speaking lowly, "You wh-want sss-something?"

Though the question was teasing, his hands were on either side of your torso in an instant, obvious excitement and impatience. Purposely pressing his clothed crotch into yours, a very suspicious mass pressing into you. A testament to the fact that he was nineteen, getting it up at the speed of light without even doing anything yet, just the mere suggestion that you wanted him, getting the man going. Similar to the situation that had you getting ground into that night, back against the tree and blood on your clothed tits. That was then, this was now. 

Laying yourself down, either one of your hands came to each of his shoulders, lightly tugging him down. "You." 

Though he was inexperienced, it'd be downright dumb of him not to catch onto your signals. Following the pull of your hands, he lowered himself into you. Chest pressing into yours and placing a kiss onto your lips, not as forcefully rough as the last time. Not too soft and tender either, obvious desperation and need in his touch.

On the same page, mouths opening and tongues sliding together. The smell of cherry chapstick which he applied almost religiously only added to the pleasantly intoxicating dopamine. Your hands sliding from his shoulders and into his still damp hair. A smile tugged at the edges of your lips as you harshly tugged on his hair. Earning you a gasp and Toby harshly grinding into your growing heat.

Doubling down, he pressed himself further into you, practically pinning you to the bed. Groaning and grinding, getting into things quickly. You tugging on his hair, the two of you growing more sloppily passionate, taking gasping breaths against his lips. 

You couldn't take it all though. He was pressing his lips almost painfully hard into yours and you were growing just a but impatient. Sealing your lips and turning your head, Toby pulled back getting the message but obviously confused, a slight edge to his voice, leftover apprehension from that night, "Did I do ssuh-something wrong?"

"You're just a little rough but for the most part you're good." You informed as you turned your head back his way. "I mean, I like it rough but not to the point of it getting a bit more than uncomfy."

He looked mildly disappointed, mostly in himself for not being omnipotent and able to understand how you were feeling all the time. "Fuck, uuh-"

"Hey it's all good. I'll show you the ropes." With your first time getting sexual without a dead body around, the two of you were in sound mind. You could tenderly teach him what to do. Communicate what you like, what is too hard, what not to touch, the two of you had as much time as you wanted. "But first, you gotta gimme some space so I can take my shirt off." You added with a cheeky grin, hands removing themselves from his hair and to the hem of your beloved sweater.

For a split second he looked like he stopped breathing and completely mentally checked out. He quickly pressed himself up, putting his weight on his knees so he could lean over you without the use of his hands. "Why don't you luh-let me do it for you?" Words spoken quickly but lowly, excited and attempting to be smooth.

Snickering and taking your hands away from the shirts hem, "Go crazy." 

And go crazy he did. Instead of lifting the shirt up and off of you from its bottom, he grabbed either side of the shirt. With a quick and brutal tug, the harsh sound of fabric tearing filling your ears while cool air hit your skin. While you stared in shock, he pulled the shirt that now resembled a jacket, a tear down its center, further to the side. Guiding it off your arms and leaving your front exposed while the black fabric sat uselessly under your back.

"Okay, what the fuck?" Was all you could say in response, sparing a glance to the sweater that now lay useless and unwearable. 

"You sssuh-said to go crazy." Toby retorted, staring at your chest. You'd gone braless after showering, no point in wearing one when bedtime was so close. Finally getting a look at your chest, his dark eyes wide with wonder and lust. A hand began closing in for a grope but before he made contact with your skin, he looked up from your breasts and into your eyes, "Wait. Are you ssh-sure?" Toby wasn't stupid, he had a memory and an understanding that what the two of you did was fucked up.

He clearly saw the marks that he left on your chest. Sure, he threw caution to wind the second he saw you laying on his bed, checking him out but now that things were getting serious, he had to stop and think. Now was the time to back out if you were uncomfortable, in need of time but you were all in. You wanted this even more now that he was being considerate. 

"As long as you don't gorilla grip my tit, you're good Toby." A hand brought itself behind his, the one that hovered right over your breast. Pressing it down on the skin. Smiling softly at him, you took in his still wonder-struck expression as he finally got to cop a feel, a real one, skin to skin. You took note of how he shifted his fingers, trying to avoid the bruises. Sweet of him.

Your other hand found his free one, guiding it down at well to your other breast. Letting out a huffy laugh at his lips agape and brows risen. He made eye contact with you once more, "Th-thank you."

Sharply cackling, you asked, "Thank you?"

"Yeah," He nodded, "Thank you. For luh-like, ssh-showing me what do to." That was fucking adorable, you couldn't help but softly smile at him, if he were closer you would have pressed a kiss to his lips. There was no way you wouldn't show him what to do, it'd be a disaster if you didn't. He finished with a roll of his shoulder, incidentally moving his arm with the motion, softly kneading your chest.

"Hmmm, that's nice." It wasn't moaned out but your words suggested he should keep going. Although simply kneading a tit wouldn't turn you on all that much, you needed to guide him. "But," Even though it was unintentional you were taking the chance, "You should touch me like this." He let you guide his hands, fingertips resting lightly on your nipples. Hands over his, you slowly began to led his hands in slow circles. There was plenty of other ways to touch you to get you going but this was a relatively easy way to start. 

Soon enough, he started moving of his own volition, you lifting your hands from him with a content sigh. Showing him how much you liked what he was doing to you with a roll of your hips into him. 

_"Fuck."_ He growled out, not pausing his slow circles to grind himself into you, hitting just the right spot to have you softly moan under him. Taking in your reaction with shameless greed. Taking his usual approach of fast and rough, although turned down a bit, he pressed his fingers more into your sensitive skin and ground his hips into yours once more. Not hitting the same place exactly twice but the pressure, the knowledge that he wanted you, still had you let out a grunt of a moan.

"You uh," He stumbled out, doing it once more, "You fuh-fucking like that?" Though the words were growled out as a commanding question, there was still the underlying awkwardness of a virgin who had no idea how to dirty talk.

Still, it was pretty damn good for a first timer. Huffing out a laugh, you retorted, "Maybe." Just as he ground into you just right, having you moan out a much better answer, _"Yes."_

 _"_ Good." The response was a bit wonky, though delivered lustfully. It was hot and adorable at the same time. 

You for once were liking how this was going, but you were getting impatient. Surprising that it was you asking before Toby since he seemed to have genuinely no sense of the word patience. "Hey-"

"Yuh-yeah?" He hadn't stopped his movements but slowed himself down to pay attention. Momentarily jerking his head to the side.

"Take my fucking pants off." You haughtily demanded, you could do it yourself but you wanted to see how he'd go about it. With your words he devilishly grinned and his hands were already on the waistband of the basketball shorts you borrowed from him. "Wait! Don't rip th-"

The now familiar sound of fabric being forced apart by the seems filled your ears. You just blinked at him, astounded at him over the fact that he not only unnecessarily tore your clothes off once but twice. Actually, three times if you counted the fact that he accidentally grabbed hold of your panties with the shorts, tearing them too. "Tuh-too late!" 

He'd torn the shorts and underwear right down the center, leaving the clothing still on. Grinning like a kid on Christmas, he grabbed one pant leg, tore it along with the hem of your panties. Threw the fabric away and did the same to your other pant leg, leaving your somewhat nice underwear in torn shambles and the basketball shorts thrown to the side. 

With you finally completely nude, legs spread and willing, he leaned back to take you in. You planned on taking this a little slower but this was also pretty good. Gaze hungry and greedy, shamelessly staring at what he'd revealed to himself. It had you feeling some type of way.

Through agape lips with half-lidded eyes, he mumbled, _"Poggers."_ You wheezed out a cackle, slamming your fists onto the mattress. He was supposedly seeing a naked woman for the first time, not on some porn magazine or on the internet, but in real life and willing to have sex with him. And his first word was that. 

"God," You snickered with a playful roll of your eyes, "I love you."

Still looking in awe at your exposed form, he said something a lot more romantic and fitting, "I luh-love you too." His hands removed themselves from your breasts and found them ghosting over your inner thighs, "Ca-can I-"

"Go crazy." You mimicked your earlier words.

Through shock, wonder, and lust there was clear confusion about how to proceed. Though he clearly had no idea as to what he was doing, his hands still slid down your thighs, closing in. Resting above your thigh creases, he made eye contact and bluntly asked, "Wh-what am I sssuh-supposed to do?" He may be a virgin but he was already better at sex than most men were. Clearly looking to not immediately ram his dick into you and wanting to do actual foreplay. Looking to you for guidance on how to please you instead of just assuming he was some sort of sex god. 

You grabbed his hand, having it hover over your growing heat. Sliding off his hand to demonstrate before he could touch you, you lightly rested a single finger atop your clit, "See this?"

"Yeah." He jerked his head to the side with a slight grimace.

"That's my clit." You informed in a chirp.

"(Y/n), I knuh-know what a clit is." Toby blinked before admitting, "I've ssuh-seen porn before."

That had you wheezing out a cackle. He definitely used Brian's computer to look it up when he was home alone. The man had to know, Toby had never proved to be the best with technology. He probably didn't know search history was a thing or the fact that it could be cleared. 

"Alright, so if you're such an expert," You shot him a challenging look, "How are you supposed to touch it?" You hoped to god he didn't start treating your poor clit like a DJ that was scratching a record. That didn't feel as good as the porn industry liked to portray it. You didn't need your pussy chaffing.

Clicking his tongue, he admitted defeat, "You ssh-should ssshuh-show me how." Quickly recovering, he hit another good stride of dirty talk.

With raised brows at his soft command, you complied with a mischievous, "Alright."

You'd go with another relatively simple approach once more, try not to overwhelm him. In small and slow circles, you stimulated the mound of nerves with two fingers and a teasing sigh. Rolling your hips into your hand while he watched and learned.

Though he enjoyed the show you were putting on for him, he grew impatient, "Move your ha-hand."

You complied, saving a biting and bratty comment for later. He was figuring things out for now, you had to be a guiding hand other than a rat bastard. There was also the fact that you liked the way that he was almost unintentionally bossing you around, so you complied. Resting either one of your hands on the tops of your thighs. 

Toby wasted no time, one finger lightly pressing itself onto the sensitive mound of nerves. Testing and curious. Thankfully, he didn't press it like the call button for an elevator, rough and impatient prodding. Following your earlier instructions, not straying from the small path you'd set. Concentrating so hard that he'd yet to make a comment on the situation. 

When you gasped and bucked your hips up into his hand, he broke free of his trance. Adjusting his finger with your movements, he locked eyes with you, grinning at your needy gaze, "You really like th-that, huh?" Not breaking eye contact as he moved his finger faster, looking for reactions, seemingly knowing what the fuck he was doing. 

Instead of a simple yes or no, you sighed out a, "Fuck."

Pressing up into his finger, looking for more pressure. Though the two of you just started, you were having a great time, Toby's piercing gaze and teasing question really got you going too. Getting a lot more needy and desperate to get railed faster than you thought.

He was completely enamored with the way you moved and moaned. Glancing down to his finger that worked away at you as you ground more into the single digit. Though he know damn well you were enjoying yourself, he still growled out, "Tell me you luh-like it."

The demand had you wanting to get all bratty on him, just be a real bastard. He didn't seem to know it was coming but he was impatient, snapping, " _Now."_

It was the mix of his finger circling your clit and the demand spoken so darkly that had you whining. At the noise, Toby let out a shuddering sigh, taking in the reaction with a lustful greed. Everything about him made you want to scream, in a good way. So you complied with his somewhat apparent praise kink, "Yes Toby, I fucking love it." 

At your words, something sparked in him that had him lurching forward while pressing a second finger onto your clit. Through intuition that it'd feel good or through his sex education via porn you did not know. Either way, he slammed his lips into yours while clumsily rubbing your clit. Without the sight of your pussy he couldn't get it quite as right but it still felt great. So much so that as he shoved his tongue into your mouth, you loudly moaned.

Your hands quickly brought themselves to the back of his head, tugging on fistfuls of hair. His fingers faltered for a moment as he let a guttural growl slip into your open mouth. Though his hips weren't flushed with yours, you still felt the sharp movement of him bucking his hips. The thought of him ramming into you had you way ahead of yourself and needily whining, tongue sliding around his as the pleasure in your body continued to build.

Somehow in control of himself and not mindlessly making out with you all night, Toby pulled back. Letting out a huff of laughter as he looked to your face, eyes half-lidded, looking up at him needily and with lips slathered in his saliva. Ajar as another moan pushed passed them in the form of, " _Toby."_

Shifting back so he could see what he was doing, he adjusted his fingers as they'd slid a bit out of place. Two fingers grinding fast circles directly onto yours clit had you gasping as Toby took in your reactions with a smirk. _"Yes, engel?"_

You were saying his name for the sake of it, not asking for anything. Yet with his words, you melted, aware of growing sensitivity and greed. You informed him with a whine, shameless of how easily you let him make a mess of you, "You might wanna slow down," Though you wanted this, this was his first time, he deserved to first, "I'm gonna fucking cum if you don't."

"Really?" He sounded wistfully hopeful, not slowing down in the slightest. 

"Yeah." You let the simple response out with a sigh, writhing under him. 

Before you could make a case for wanting him to have his moment first, he purred, _"Cum for me."_

With his words, he quickened his pace, making intense eye contact that felt almost predatory. His free hand gripping possessively onto your inner thigh, hard and almost painfully. You felt completely put in your place by him, the fucking virgin. All he was doing was moving his fingers and you here you were, desperately whining for him. He seemed to take haughty solace in the fact, increasing his grip while practically abusing your poor clit, in a good way. 

Slack jawed and shameless, you gasped, " _Fuck, Toby!"_ Grinding into him as you gripped the bed sheets, " _Fuck, fuck, I'm gonna fucking cum."_ You whined out a series of wanton moans, curses, and his name repeated over and over as you writhed. Feeling the intense wave of throbbing pleasure play out through your empty pussy. At the crescendo of the whole ordeal, your back was arched, head thrown back, and you letting out an incoherent babbling cry.

Relaxing into the mattress, panting as the feeling lessened but Toby had not removed his fingers from your clit. "Holy fucking sh-shit." Back again was the apparent virgin, taking in your orgasm with red-faced wonder. Though he paused his movements, he made it clear he was far from done with you, "Do that ag-again."

You snickered, "I can't do that on command." You snottily retorted, greedy for more and looking to teach him something else, "But I can do it again if you finger me." It was widely known that men and fingering don't mix well, them being way too rough and uninformed to get anything done. You trusted Toby to restrain himself though, he'd learned his lesson after the last time the two of you got intimate. There was also the fact that he was actually listening to you, not automatically assuming that he knew how to please.

At your suggestion, he removed his fingers from your sensitive flesh, backing off and waiting for you to guide him. From bossy to clueless, cute. Smiling, you unballed your fists and curled yourself forward. He wouldn't exactly be able to tell what the hell you were doing with your fingers once they were inside of you. There's more to fingering than just jamming ones fingers in and out, it's a fucking art.

You grabbed his hand much to his surprise, curling his fingers into a fist save for one, his middle. As you slid his single finger into place at your slick entrance, he inquired quietly, "Are you sssuh-sure?" There was clear nervousness in his tone, once again making it evident to you how inexperienced he was.

"Very." You retorted with confidence, if he could make you cum once you trusted him to do it again, maybe. For the most part you just wanted to see how he'd react, if he'd get all bossy again. There was also the fact that he clearly enjoyed seeing what he could do to you, it came with the territory of leaning more towards being dominant. With that, you slowly and carefully pulling his hand forward, finger siding into your ample prepared pussy.

Toby kept his finger stiffly straight, awkwardly not knowing how to move the digit as you further guided it inside of you with a sigh. He blinked dumbly, sitting there knuckle deep, feeling you twitch around him with a, "Holy fuck."

You chuckled, giving him a second to marvel in the moment. Toby glanced up to your smiling face, "What now?"

"Well." You gingerly tugged at his hand, guiding his finger halfway out of you before pulling, having him slide back into you. "That." There was more to it but you were starting slow.

"This?" He asked after letting you pump his finger in and out of you, doing one for himself. He was a quick learner or just following your movements exactly, doing the movement once more as you let out a soft sigh and a nod, a positive reaction.

"Yeah," You pawed at his hand, him pausing his actions to let you take the lead, "But you know what would be even better?"

The finger exited your warmth, leaving you dreadfully empty as Toby asked with obvious anticipation, "Wh-what?"

You carefully uncurled his ring finger, it sitting right beside his middle at your needy entrance. Putting two and two together with a roll of his shoulders, he lightly prodded his fingertips into you. Just barley sinking in before he stopped himself, looking to you with a darkly lustful gaze. 

Snickering at your momentary power over him, having just what he wanted, being the drug and the dealer. You adjusted his hand so he could more easily sink his fingers into you, slowly pushing the digits into you. Making intense eye contact as you let out a very purposefully teasing moan. His free hand gripping your inner thigh, fingertips twitching as he restrained himself. 

He broke the staring contest to get a look at his hand, fingers completely buried inside you. The sight had him quietly marveling, " _Fuck_."

The low growl had your patience wearing thin, needing him to rightfully mess you up. You led his hand back, halfway out, him pausing a moment to get a good look at your slick on his fingers. With a hum, you forced his hand forward, slamming his fingers into you with a squeak. You knew exactly what you were doing.

Over and over, you guided his fingers almost out of you before slamming them back into your needy self with unadulterated moans. His grip on your thigh tightened, it hurt but it only made you twitch. Knowing how badly he was restraining himself, the dab of pain was a sharp reminder of who really could be in power here. Yet he let you lead the situation with your experience and knowledge of how a pussy works.

You wanted to see how far you could push him, pausing with his fingers buried inside of you.

Displeased but intrigued, he looked up to you with raised brows, "What do you th-think you're doing?" His inquiry charged with an impatient desire. You couldn't wait to see how he'd react to this shit.

"Oh ya'know." You haughtily snickered, bringing up your free hand. Sticking out the exact same two fingers that he had inside you, "Hey, do this." With a smirk you curled the two fingers upward in an exaggerated beckon. He immediately repeated the action with a bit too much force, not hurting you but not hitting the exact spot either.

At your hum he tilted his head, "What was that ssuh-supposed to do?"

"You'll see just," You guided his hand back half an inch, "Try that again. You'll know when you hit it, feels like rubbing a weird wet sponge." 

He looked mildly confused but then again he didn't have a vagina and he'd never fingered someone before. With a roll of his shoulders, he turned his attention to his fingers. There was a moment where time seemed to stop before you were viciously thrown off your high horse with a single jerk of his fingers. Finger tips curling up and rubbing the sensitive flesh, you letting out a loudly sudden wanton groan. Bucking your hips into his hand while your grip on his hand loosened.

There was a spark of mischief in his eyes at the sudden advantage you'd led him to. He repeated the motion, earning him another moan and roll of your hips. Again, another gasp. Again, a whined out, _"Toby."_

Chuckling at your practically melting form, he curled his fingers once more sending eye rolling waves of pleasure through you. With the upmost adoration but even more cockiness, he drawled out, "You're cute when you muh-moan like that."

Clawing for your earlier advantage, you very astutely retorted, "Shut up."

Another curl of his fingers, another whine. As he snickered you playfully demanded, "Quit it, fucker."

"Do you ruh-really want me to?" He genuinely paused.

You informed him as seriously as you could, "Oh no, I'm just being a little bastard."

"Oh okay!" Chirping, he curled his fingers once more just to hear you whimper. He didn't uncurl his fingers, instead he opted to test something out. Rubbing his fingers back and forth on your g-spot or more acutely described by you, the area that felt like a weird wet sponge. He began, falling back into the preset mood, "In th-that case," As you ground into him with a gasp, he played along with your earlier sentiment, "I know you don't want me to ssstuh-stop."

Playfully scoffing, you inquired shakily, "And how do you know that?"

"Well, you're moaning and sstuh-stuff and not telling me to ssss-so." He plainly pointed out while he straightened out his fingers, dragging them nearly all the way out of you before sliding them back in with a mild amount of force. Waiting for your little moan to die down, he continued, "I think I've got a puh-pretty good idea."

Shuddering sighs and calls of his name, writhing and growing overstimulated. He didn't let up, whenever you seemed to have a particularly strong reaction to something, he would abuse the fuck out of the motion. Leaving you a mess to be marveled at and softly mocked.

"Come on engel, sss-scream for me." Toby purred as he mercilessly slammed his fingers directly into your g-spot. He only got more excited, more demanding for you to whine and wiggle under his touch, as you'd gasped out the fact that you were close.

And scream you did, arching your back, jerking your hips, letting out wanton babbles. Things such as, " _Fuck, fuck, what the fuck!?"_ Still mildly confused how a virgin could learn so fast and more appropriate, " _Toby, oh my fucking god!"_

Harshly throbbing around his fingers while your words grew incoherent. Toby feeling every little spasm, audibly musing, "Holy sh-shit." As you came around his digits. 

Muscles relaxing, you gasping and hot faced, though unmoving his fingers were still inside of you. It was a bit overwhelming with the sudden sensitivity that came with cumming twice. Any movement would have you panting and groaning, easy to please. 

Giggling as your walls continued to throb around him, Toby spoke, "Poggers."

Cackling, you lightly grabbed his hand and guided his fingers out of you. For the sake of your overstimulated self needing a moment to gather and because you wanted to get the show on the road. While moving his hand you playfully jabbed, "Pussy privileges revoked."

"Wait! Re-really?" Toby fakely pouted as you dragged his hand forward. 

"Hmm," You thought aloud while bringing his two slicked fingers before your lips, "Nah, I want you to fuck my brains out." With that, you parted your lips and slid his fingers into your mouth. Letting the two long digits rest on your tongue, tasting yourself while making direct eye contact with Toby. Sucking on his fingers while he processed your words and actions. 

With a ' _pop'_ you released his fingers and pulled them out of your mouth. The second you did his hands were on waistband of his pants, tugging them down while he threw himself off the bed. For a second you wondered what the fuck he was doing but you quickly remembered that safe sex was key, even Toby knew that. He tore open the top drawer of his dresser while stepping out of his sweats.

"Nice ass." You snidely commented as he tore a little box open, fumbling with it for a moment. Did him and Brian really buy condoms together? You couldn't fucking believe these guys sometimes.

Shaking his pants off his ankle, Toby raced back over throwing himself back onto the bed. Kneeling between your spread legs while tearing open the little rectangle. Tossing the wrapping god knows where as you took in the sight of him, well, his dick. Akin to him it was long, not the widest thing on the planet but you knew it'd do just fine. You were no expert on the matter but you were pretty sure the guy was rock hard, anyone would be after making their partner cum twice. A thick and almost clear sap-like fluid dribbled onto the mattress, originating from his dick. It was pre-cum, and there was a fucking lot of it. A dim sheen covering the upper half of his dick, he was a lot more riled up than you thought. 

The sight only made you all the more eager to have him inside you. Feeling empty and needy for more than just his fingers.

The only hold up was his new found struggle with rolling the condom on. Muttering a, "What th-the fuck?" While trying to push it down his length. 

Chuckling, you shifted forward with a, "Lemme help." He paused his momentary struggle, moving his hands so you could take a shot at it. Sex-ed in school was useless, you had to learn this shit on your own time. Google really was an innovation.

The task was an idle one, not too difficult to do as you gently rolled the plastic down his length. While you did so Toby gasped and slightly shuddered while you casually aided him. The second it was on, you looked up to him with a smirk, loosely running your hand up and down his dick. You echoed his earlier sentiment, taking in his flushed face with pride, "You're cute when you moan like that."

His eyes had been screwed shut during the process but now they snapped open at your little comment. His hands snatching your wrists and shifting his weight forward. Shoving your back into the mattress, hands held down at either side of your head while he hovered over you. The weight of his length resting above your warmth, so close but not inside you yet.

Before you could let out a bratty whine, he retorted, rephrasing one of your earlier comments, "Wruh-wrist privileges revoked."

He brought his head down, you thought that you were to receive a kiss but instead his head veered off your predicted coarse last second.

"Hey." You playfully complained, feeling his hot breath on your neck, torso pressed against yours. Stubble brushing against your sensitive skin as he parted his lips. You thought he'd be more impatient but here he was, being a shithead and a tease.

Rutting against you, he sucked on the tender flesh of your neck. Rumbling out laughter that pleasantly vibrated your skin as you breathily sighed, rolling your hips looking for some kind of stimulation. "Toby."

"Hm?" The rat bastard hummed, selecting a different spot on your neck to mark. Pressing your wrists further into the mattress, lightly squeezing them as he did so. Reminding you playfully that he was on top, he was in charge.

Weakly growling while attempting to grind against him once more, you lowly demanded, "Just fuck me already."

That got him to let up, removing his mouth from your tingling skin. Shifting himself so his face hovered inches over yours, "Wh-what was that?" He tilted his head, asking the unnecessary question with a shit eating grin.

You huffed at him, "You heard me."

"I ah-actually didn't." He dimly informed.

"Oh uh," You were a bit embarrassed to repeat yourself while looking him dead in the eye but then again you'd done grosser shit, "I said to just fuck me already."

With your words his grin only grew as he childishly snickered, "I got yuh-you."

"What?" You blinked at him, playfully unamused. Yet you could not contain a giggle, what a little fucker.

Your laughter only seemed to make him more giddy, him spitting out the words in a singsong, "I got you to buh-beg." It was true, you fell for his antics hook, line, and sinker. Not that you actually minded, it was funny and you were into begging.

Snorting, you let out a, "Oh, fuck you." With a smile.

He rose his thick brows with a laugh, "I'm going to." With that he shifted back, removing a single hand from your dominant hand's wrist. You followed his movement, the two of you pointing your attention to your lower halves. The two of you grabbing his dick as a couple, him steadying the thing while you slid it to your entrance. 

Toby let out a breathy moan the second you guided him inside of you. Making sure nothing went haywire. It wasn't really that hard with you completely ready for him, wet and moaning with him. He was a virgin while you were overstimulated, this outta be good. 

"Okay, wh-what now?" He questioned while you took your hand away, running it up his hairy chest. Nice. 

There wasn't really much to explain about the act of fucking, from here it was pretty straightforward. So you decided to get to the point, "Well, you fuck me. Just don't go too hard," You idly remembered how harshly he snapped his groin into yours that night, "Like, you can but like don't break me in half." You lightly chided from below him, feeling wonderfully full. Sensitive nerves already having your walls twitch around him even though he wasn't moving you still felt great.

"Got it!" He brought his hand up, mimicking your actions and sliding it up your chest while he slowly slid his length out of you. Moaning loudly as he did so, hand coming up to idly play with one of your breasts. You rolled your hips, letting him sink into you quicker as he came forward with a sigh of, _"(Y/n)."_

The first few strokes were cautious, slow but enjoyable for the both of you. Him muttering out, "Fuh-fuck, you feel ssss-so good." Eyelids batting while irises rolled back, cute. 

Smirking, you brought your free hand up to his hair as he pulled his length back once more. Giving his curly locks a harsh tug, earning you a moan and him quickly sinking back into you. The sudden fast movement having the both of you cursing and sighing. He looked to you with a loving gaze, smiling sweetly as your eyes met. Him slowly sliding out of you while you kept your hand in his hair, him playfully challenging, "Do it, I duh-dare you."

"Uh-huh." You hummed, not forgetting what he could get like if you pressed the right buttons. You found it quite enjoyable when he got bossy or teasing with you, you wanted this. So, you yanked on his hair.

In response he slammed back into you, you letting out a yelp as he toyed with your nipple. You pulled yourself back and rolled back into him with a whine as he paused to try and concentrate on your breast. " _Fuck, engel._ " He whimpered, grip on your wrist tightening before he lowly demanded, "Do that ah-again."

You wanted to tease him like he teased you, so instead you tugged on his hair. Earning you a quick rut and growl. Snickering at him, you did it once more to the same result. Haughtily saying, "Got you."

Using his own silly yet cheap tactics against him earned you a hand on your wrist. Forcing your weapon of mass destruction, your hair pulling hand, back into the bed beside your head.

"Really?" He asked with risen brows and a smirk, clearly happy with himself and cocky about having you at his mercy. Knowing you liked it that way.

A dry laugh, he couldn't exactly stop you from moving anything else. "Really." You echoed, jerking yourself into him with a grin. One that faltered with a breathy groan. Toby making a sound akin to yours, high pitched and needy.

"Fucking ssh-shit, god." He stuttered out, grip tightening on your wrists. _"(Y/n)."_ Your name panted past his lips as he thrust into you, shuddering while tear-jerking waves of pleasure washed over the both of you.

He didn't mercilessly ram you into the mattress, most likely afraid of hurting you which was sweet. Him internally reminding himself that you could feel pain and if you got messed up it'd take you much longer to heal. That didn't mean he went slow at all, the second he found his footing though a little awkward at first, he quickly picked up the pace.

Slamming himself into you, checking in on you every once in awhile. Cockily smiling when you told him that you were better than fine, saying some shit about how he liked that, when you told him how good you made him feel. Praise kink apparent, you laid it on thick how much you loved the feeling of him fucking your brains out. In between check-ins he whined out your name, babbles of curses and compliments. Sweetly adoring while pinning you down and railing you.

With two orgasms under your belt, you were overstimulated, every harsh slam of his length into you had you thinking that you were going to start crying. Not in a bad way. It was nearly overwhelming but you didn't want him to stop, telling him not to do so or you'd fucking kill him. Toby made it apparent that he didn't plan on it, still snickering and being a cocky shit about it. Softly degrading comments such as, "You're ss-so fucking cute when you act luh-like sss-such a tease. All high and mmuh-mighty and sh-shit, but you're sss-such a whiny mess the sss-second I touch you, huh?" Shockingly lewd coming from him but the entire night he'd been pulling surprises on you. You shouldn't have been so surprised considering the way he could be so rough when it came to making out or on the occasion of that night, grinding. Still, it wasn't a bad surprise you didn't mind a little bit of being talked down to if it was lighthearted and sexual, in the heat of the moment. The way you rolled your hips into him and whimpered when he made more haughty comments only egged him on.

_"Mine."_ He growled into your neck after lightly sinking his teeth into your neck. Reveling in your wanton whimpers and calls of his name, " _Mine."_ His sentences had melted into the singular phrase mixed with your name and whines. You'd proclaimed that you were close so he decided to bury himself in you, roughly rutting only a few inches into you while marking up your neck. " _Mine."_

 _"Toby!"_ Was the most coherent word you could roll passed your tongue, tears pricking at the edges of your eyes, pressing into him as you arched your back. Fingers curling into fists as you babbled out a mess of inconceivable phrases, coming to your end. Toby didn't let up in the slightest as you came around him, walls tightening and throbbing. 

Gasping as the sudden, probably fucking great, sensation, Toby's hips seemed to stutter, ceasing his rutting as he let out a breathy whimper of, " _(Y-Y/n)!"_

The two of you stayed like that a moment, living mindlessly in the moment. Shaking and gasping. You were crying just a bit, a few tears running down your cheek, sweating and feeling like if he thrust one more time into you without a break, you'd pass out or go numb. Toby may not have had the most extensive sex education growing up, though how he did thanks to you, he understood that after you cum in condom, you gotta get the fuck outta there fast. Outta there being your vagina. Can't risk anything leaking and you getting pregnant. You couldn't imagine having a baby in this hellscape. 

Removing his length from you, lifting himself off of you, wrists free, he let out a content sigh. Though you wanted to lay down for awhile and recover, you peeled yourself up from the mattress.

"I got you." You mumbled, helping him pull the condom off. Considering how fast a learner he was, he probably wouldn't need a demonstration in the future. 

"Th-thanks." You heard as you tied a little knot at the end of the slick plastic. 

"Anytime." You tiredly replied, sliding your shaking form off the bed and padding over to this trashcan.

"Not just for that," Toby continued as you discarded the thing, "But for like-"

**NSFW Ends**

He clicked his tongue as you turned around, not hiding the fact that he was checking out your nude body. Looking awestruck even through the two of you just fucked for god knows how long. Restarting his sentiment he began, "You're ah-amazing and I love you, Thank you."

Giggling, you threw yourself back onto the bed, laying back with a sigh. Toby took the liberty to plop down right next to you, instantly throwing a leg atop yours, a single arm lazily pulling you into his chest. You snuggled into him with a smile, "I love you too."

The moment could have gone on forever, tenderly comfortable. Quiet. Toby didn't go quiet and you didn't mind. "I'm ruh-really glad that you're fine with doing th-things like that with me after, _ya'know."_

You'd been shaken by that night but your faith and love had not been. Forgiveness was being worked toward, it was fucked up on both ends. The boat rocked but you still on board, you got it but you didn't exactly like it. The apology, the action, it didn't make him a better person but it helped you forgive him.

"Well, it's best that we accept the bad shit together and move past it the best we can, together," You responded with reassurance, not sugar coating things, "Right?"

"Right." He quietly agreed with a nod.

"I'm glad that you're comfortable," You began with a sigh, looking up to his soft brown eyes, "Enough with me to let me take your virginity." You finished with a giggle.

A smile tugged at the edges of his lips, continuing to gush, "Just like, I'm glad wuh-we're together ah-and things can be worked out. I want this to go on fuh-forever."

You had to be honest, "I do too Toby, but not like this."

Fully aware of how that killed the lightheartedly loving mood you said it anyways, Toby squinting at you, "Wh-what do you mean?"

"I don't want to live under that cum guzzling thunder slut." You attempted to lighten the mood again with an insult thrown at, _**"**_ ** _Him."_**

 _"(Y/n)."_ His voice had a desperate edge to it, softly telling you to shut up.

You didn't, "This sucks! You gotta admit!"

He stayed quiet for once.

"We should get out of here. I don't know how we will yet, but Tim said last night that he thinks I can do it." Speaking with conviction and intensely staring into his eyes, gripping his hand in yours, "I think deep down Brian wants to get out too but," You sighed, the hurdle of a true admission yet to be passed, "I dunno. There's just gotta be something, Tobes."

Toby broke his momentary silence, " **He** _will_ have you kuh-killed if you keep th-this up." Oddly stern and rational for once, eyes wide with fear.

"Here's the thing!" You argued, flimsy and weak yet determined all the same, " **He** could'a already. I think **he** sees me as a challenge," Or the fact that it seemed to have extreme levels of patience, fucking with Tim his entire life, waiting twenty-odd years to take him in, "Or something. Dunno how the skinny freak works but the point it; I'm not dead."

" _Y_ _et!"_ He practically shouted, " **He** ruined all of our lives (Y/n). How ca-can you even-ven hope?" Voice lowering in volume as he jerked his head to the side, looking bewildered. A deer in the headlights.

"Spite," You began with a faltering grin, "Love, some experience." You didn't sound too sure of yourself, going it alone but if you all worked together maybe something would change, "I stood up to it _once!_ Broke it's hold one me twice for _a few seconds,_ " Delusional, you sounded completely delusional, "I can probably do it again. Better, _longer!_ If some dumb fuck like me can do it, I know can too." Eyes looking to his, pleading, "We can get out."

"(Y/n), I-," He looked distraught, "I can't. I just get all fu-fucking overwhelmed-elmed when **he's** around. I can't muh-move, I wanna ssss-scream but I never can. I can't help (Y/n). I want to," You felt your hopes rise despite his grim description, "But I know th-that I can't do anything."

He'd given you a shred of confirmation that he didn't want this and you were running with it, "Tim and I can!" Speaking out Tim's name reminded you that he was in the house, he totally heard all of that. Probably sleeping through it or covering his ears with a pillow and dying inside.

You did get overwhelmed, able to be controlled while not losing consciousness, able to stand and scream. "We can help you and Brian. We'll figure it out." You didn't know how the two of you, shaking and buzzing, hardly able to stand if at all walk would help the two but you would just continue to blindly believe in yourself.

"I want to belie-believe you but I can't. Not ah-after what **he** **s** done to me." Toby hollowly informed, your stomach dropping with a shred of your hope. You quickly snatched the loose shred, throwing it back into the passionate fire that was your stupid determination.

"That's okay." He didn't believe you could get him out but you'd prove him wrong. It was fine that he felt that way after all the thing had done to him. You'd take the weight of the world on your shoulders for him, for Tim, for Brian. They didn't think you could do that and that was fine, you'd beaten the odds before even if it was all useless, no matter how many feats you preformed you ended up in this shithole. But in this shithole with them, in love. 

"I'm gonna get you guys outta here. I'll figure it out, I always do. Just know that I don't plan on dying, okay?"

"Okay," The smile he gave you was genuine, you could see the repressed hope in his dark eyes, he wanted this. You all wanted this.


	51. 50 - Sand In The Hourglass

**NSFW Mentions**

You were doing your best to sleep in but couldn't seem to fall into slumber. The second Toby's refractory period was over, the dampened mood dying down with your soft cuddling, he pounced on you once more. Not that you minded, you just didn't get too much rest and your body was throbbing in multiple places. He woke you with a wet smooch to the forehead, letting you know that he and Brian were to be on a mission for the next few hours. Sleepily telling him goodbye with a mumbled I love you, shutting your eyes and trying to fall back into your peacefully dreamless sleep. Free of the hazy images of dead people, old friends and strangers, shattered bones and gargling cavities. 

Yet you could not sleep despite the desire to. 

Still tired, but unable to drift away, stuck in reality and unable to escape. That was fine, you thought with a grumbling sigh. Rolling off the bed, stretching your arms over your head with an exaggerated yawn you got up.

The two of you sat one stool apart, looking away from each other while loudly sipping at cups of coffee. You were one to address problems as they came up, facing them head on with a snarl. This though, darken patches of (s/c) flesh adorning your neck in the form of light indentations of teeth and circles, this wasn't a problem to be addressed as easily or as smoothly. The knowledge both of you had as to what, or more accurately _who_ , you did last night was obvious with how obnoxiously loud the two of you were despite Tim not being in the room.

You could just tell by looking at his sunken face, eye bags deep and looking dully into his steaming cup of coffee, that he had gotten as much or less sleep than you had. No good mornings were said while you poured yourself a bowl of cereal, eating the entire thing while only sparing him a single awkward glance. He decided to do the same, the two of you locking eyes and promptly looking away, him almost spilling his coffee at the speed he turned his head away. 

Bowl in the sink, you still nursed your coffee while dumbly sitting there. Honestly, you could have finished up by now and spent the rest of the day trying to sleep in Toby's bed but again, you were one to face things head on. Even if it was awkward as an apology for fucking too loud, that and probing him if he remembered anything from your date, you knew he was a lightweight, you were hoping he didn't get blackout drunk. 

You took the lead, "So," A sharp inhale was taken in while you forced your eyes toward him, "Sorry about that."

Not yet meeting your gaze, he quietly scoffed, "I'm sorry that I had to _hear_ that."

The verbal confirmation brought embarrassed heat to your face. Nonetheless, you found yourself snorting, wondering if he heard Toby say poggers, a pillow over his ears while he wondered why the fuck Toby would say that while having sex.

There was also a bit of shame, you made him lose sleep which he didn't ever seem to get much of in the first place. Tired as hell but still lucid enough to crack a dumb joke, one used to try and make himself more comfortable. With a smile you realized that you were rubbing off on him, cracking wise ones to hide the pain. Pain that was mild, an emotional scrape of the knee while still bearing the deep emotional and mental gashes without pride, being honest even when it was ego crushing. 

"So," The air was already thick with discomfort might as well address something else, another elephant in the room, "Do you remember anything that happened the other night? The car?" Cracking a knowing smile at him as his face reddened and he coughed idly into his fist. Part of you did have to wonder how he felt hearing you moan, probably pretty fucking weird because it wasn't him making you do so. Yet, hearing someone you were dating moan was an easy turn on. Though you were mostly being a dickhead for the fun of it, trying to jostle the mood into a lighter mood, you still wanted to know.

It took him a second to formulate a response, "Some stuff, it's pretty touch and go but uh," He rubbed the back of his neck while glancing at yours, " _That,"_ You rose your brows with a smirk, "I didn't hate it."

You cackled like a witch while he took a long drink of his coffee. You didn't want to push him too far, he looked tired as fuck but it was good to know. Letting the subject drop, silence settled over the two of you once more. Prolonged and a little less awkward.

You had to commend on him at the very least, keep the conversation going, "You're funny." Simple, you were still at a loss for more astute wording, trying to gather yourself in your groggy embarrassment.

Thankfully, he wanted this too, to talk despite all the shit he heard, "No I ain't." How Alabama of him. 

"Yes, you are." You dimly replied as he finally turned his eyes to you, not yet making eye contact. Looking in your general direction with mild shame. 

"No, I'm not." He replied, a smile twitching it's way onto your lips. 

"Yes, you are." Childishly retorting before downing the last of your coffee.

"No." Setting your mug onto the table you couldn't help but notice the hint of a smile playing at the edges of his lips. He was enjoying talking to you even despite the awkward air that had thickly settled over the room.

"Yes." Every dry cut word seemed to shake the awkward feeling, shifting into a more comfortable environment. Soft bickering at eleven A.M after having a watery cup of coffee, sitting with one of your boys, peaceful and happy despite all the shit that had happened. Not just the noises of the night before, but the fact that you set him on fire and he still wanted to be with you. Him stalking you, going from a crazy fuck, to an egotistical prick, to a genuine guy under all the rugged walls and fronts he put up. It was crazy whenever you thought about it, how things had changed. How you could be here, so happy to just shoot back yes's and no's. Every response having your smiles growing and your chest warm.

You don't know how many turns passed of you both repeating the same syllables over and over before you ended the cycle. Growing reminiscent of how you were at the bar being getting wasted, slipping into the state of a mean drunk. You spoke like you did before the vodka set in, uplifting him while he tried to degrade himself, "Tim, you're funny, accept it or die." You jested and as he met your eye, you gave him a soft grin.

"Guess I'll die." Tim shot back, a heart-melting smirk on his lips, dark eyes crinkled lovingly; the smile weak and the bags under his eyes prominent, but it showed you that he was doing okay. Even if he hated himself, even if he was embarrassed just as much as you were, he was willing to mindlessly debate on the subject of his humor just to hear your voice.

"I don't want you to die!" You half playfully whined, half seriously proclaimed as you scooted closer to him, hopping across the one stool gap between the two of you.

Picking up on this he shrugged, smile faltering, "Well, if it helps, it's not like I can." 

"I know," The thought that he tried to kill himself multiple times when he still had the ability to off himself still gave you chills, "I just hate the idea of you hating yourself that much." You wished you could have been there for him then, but the sentiment was empty; it wouldn't change things just by you wanting them to happen. You had to make change happen, so you did it with a hand resting atop his. He could hang himself, blow his brains out, overdose on Tylenol, drown himself in the dinky kitchen sink, but it'd all be fruitless. Self harm without the pay off of death. There was no point in physically hurting himself when he got hurt on missions all the time, there was also the fact that it'd upset Toby, Brian, and you. Tim had blabbered out the admission while Brian drove out to the car to pick your drunk asses up. He also jabbered about literally hating being in pain, that it 'sucked fat fuckin' ass'.

You really were rubbing off on him, "You can't stop me," Determined and annoyingly stubborn, "From hating myself." You knew love wouldn't fix all of his problems, this wasn't some hopeful fairy tale. Love didn't take away trauma or mental instability, it didn't work like that, life was never as easy as you wanted it to be. 

"I know," You hoped your sentiments would continue to rub off, applying themselves to your dilemma, "But I'll be here for you no matter what." Through his self destructive tendencies, through blood and bone, you'd waded through all that shit, still here, still living and loving. 

A profound silence settled over the room, quickly pierced by soft _'click'_ s. You turned to the door to see Goober padding into the kitchen, tail swaying back and forth lowly on the floor. As Tim began, Goober bounded over to you to receive some well deserved loving, "You're too fuckin' good for a piece of shit like me, (Y/n)." Depressing yet wistful at the sight of you smiling, tousling Goober's fur about under your palm.

"Remember that I'm a bad person too." You glanced over your shoulder at him, god he looked so tired, through years of being worn down so horribly with another night of sleeplessness under his belt. He looked like he was going to protest but you shut him down, "Even before I came here I was. I always have been. Do you know how shitty you gotta be to willing to kill some kid just because a girl you like _might_ be in danger? Pretty fucking shitty. I get the impression sometimes that you think you corrupted me or something but it's not like that. Never has been. Get the idea out of your head that this," You pointed to yourself, a wretchedly evil fuck with almost ten kills, "Wasn't your fault."

Nobody under this roof was a good person, if they were before then they sure as hell weren't now. Goober wasn't a person but if he was he'd probably he considered shit too. Mindlessly loving and accepting all of you, jumping eagerly on laps for cuddles, reminded you of yourself. Horribly loving but in need of affection. Despite that, Goober was still the goodest boy in the world in your eyes.

At your words, Tim shut himself up once more, processing while you patted Goober's butt. Ushering him to go sloppily eat from the food bowl, already full from Brian getting up at the ass-crack of dawn and getting ready for the day.

He seemed to be on a real self hate streak, "Sorry that I got so depressing." You turned on your stood to fully face him as he looked for ways to get you to validate his self hate, his hand flipping in your grip to intertwine your fingers weakly. 

"It's okay to talk about your problems, Tim." You flatly informed, sternly wanting him to be okay with himself, squeezing his hand softly.

"I know but on our date? Fuck, I'm so selfish. Ruining it like th-" He kept on going, rambling about how awful he was.

You'd have none of it. Stopping him with your own words, "I had a good time, Tim! I'm glad you're comfortable enough with me to talk about that kinda shit. Not everything has to be like in the movies, like, have you seen where we are? Who we work for?" They worked for, you were still an intern, "We're in a shit fuck garbage situation but I'm glad I'm in it with you." Mushy words worked well but so did tough love, Tim seemed the type to need that sort of thing. 

It was like that morning when you first tried to kiss him, self destructing. Instead of lashing out, screaming and snarling at you, he melancholically broke himself down, trying to erase all of the progress you had made with each other. Too tired to yell, too self aware and caring to lash out once more.

"Sorry." He said once more unnecessarily. You were about to jump on him, tell him he didn't need to be when he continued, "That I got your hopes up." This topic was getting old, them trying to talk you down from escape. Yet you would't tire of talking them up, though it was mentally taxing it would be worth it. It just had to be. "We can't g-"

You stopped him with an, "I know."

" _What?"_ Shock, fear, relief, maybe happiness, crossing his face, dripped in his tone as his eyes darted to you.

"I know." You repeated before delving deep into the topic, pulling a bait and switch just as he had before, pulling you into a sense of security before breaking down the things you believed. You were doing it too but less dickish and more hope-punk. Continuing, "That escape seems impossible," He expression fell into one unreadable, "You don't think it can be done but honestly?" You sighed, you were tired too, maybe more than him, maybe less, "I can't stop hoping. It's hard, really fucking hard," You didn't hide your exasperation, "But it keeps me going even if it wears me the fuck out. It's one of the few reasons I'm not one of you guys yet. I feel like I'm our only shot to get out of here, you guys are stuck because of what you are but I'm _not_ one of you, feel like that makes me special." Admissions shamelessly flowing passed yours lips, letting it all out, "Feel like I'm the only one who can be a catalyst for change. Sucks but I keep going for you guys, to get you out, me too! I don't know what I'm going to do to get us out but I'm not going to stop hoping." You let out a halfhearted laugh, "Keep putting together half baked plans, some real ' _Home Alone'_ type of shit." That probably wasn't true, you couldn't stop an eldritch entity with just a hot doorknob and a paint can to the face.

"So just," A shuddering sigh, false chuckles falling away, "Stop. You don't need to talk me down or tell me I can't, I'm very fucking aware of my chances. Where there's a will there's a way, you know?" You continued despite the dread on his face, fueled by the spark of hope in his eyes, putting another hand on him, idly rubbing his forearm to comfort him. The though of your horrible death playing itself out in his minds eye for sure, "Either join me or let me do this for you without complaining about it every three seconds." A wary smile, wishing for him to change his mind, hop on board the rocking boat and fuck shit up with you. But you knew Tim, you knew that you were still alone in the active attempts of planning an escape, hoping for a miracle. Characteristically, you kept on hoping he would, knowing your chances were slim.

"I-" His fingers twitched under your palm as he took your words into consideration. Hope filling you as he hadn't pulled away immediately. The lightheartedness falling as he pulled his hand away, standing up from his stool. You frowned at him, though you had a feeling that this would happen. "I need a smoke." He hollowly informed you, looking like a wounded animal. Weak and dazed. Your words like a bullet to the chest; there was nothing he could do to stop you.

That was fine, he needed a break to try and pull himself together and marinate in the thoughts you'd given to him. Dead hope reigniting in the spark that you lit within him. You gave him a tight-lipped smile and a curt nod, "Alright."

You put the dishes away after cleaning them. Dwelling on your conversation with Tim, hoping he was being further dragged over to your side of things. 

All you had going for you was fierce determination, three boyfriends, nice titties, and hope.

The day crawled by slowly, agonizingly. Crossword after crossword. Games of fetch in the poor excuse the lot of you had for a front yard, an attempt at yoga in the living room that left you with a sore back. 

The day ended in Brian's bed, the best mattress to lay on for a sore back. Firm for support but not with as much give as Toby's, you didn't know about Tim's. You'd only sat on it a few times to hear him play you little songs on his guitar, glancing away bashfully whenever he sung more romantically charged songs. Songs written by signers rough around the edges, the original songs screaming out aggressive 'I love you's. Something Tim had yet to say, something you'd yet to say to him. Whenever he got to a lyric like that he'd reword it, _'I like you'._ You got it, love had burned him badly, it was harder for him to admit it to himself probably. Clearly having some sort of complex about the whole thing, thinking you were too good for him when you were almost just as bad. You'd really have to force your way into his bed, sleep side by side with him, get a good cuddle in, show him what he was missing. He may have been rough and tumble but you had a sinking suspicious that he would be a wonderful cuddling partner. Chubby, soft and warm. 

There was also the fact that you wanted to talk to Brian when he got home. The slaughter could be swept under the rug, you felt shit about taking another life but that wasn't the point. The thing you were really upset over was the fact that he tried to drag you further into the depths of hell with him. Understandable from his point of view, but you still thought that you could talk him down to your level. Rattle his determination like he tried to do to yours. You also wanted to make up with him, exchange apologies even if the two of you were still at your stalemate at the end of the day. 

The only cuddle partner you had was Goober. Splayed across your lower legs and peacefully sleeping. Tim had been out of sight when you played fetch earlier, yet the smell of cigarette smoke was heavy in the air. You couldn't see him but wouldn't doubt that he was nearby. Maybe putting his excessive stalking skills to stay out of sight, watch your smiling face as you played with your over-sized puppy. It probably sucked, looking at something that he loved so happy knowing that thing, that person, basically had a death wish. One that he could not quell, he had a faith in that thing, a faith that it would have you dead, that it would take everything he loved no matter what. You wondered what it was like to watch a dead woman walking, one that he cared so much about.

Even though the events of the day had been lax, by the late evening you'd fallen asleep. Comfortable but with dread stirring in your gut. You knew the time to act was soon, do something big to get the big bad business man to fuck off forever. An idea was tumbling itself around in your skull as you slowly drifted into your slumber. Cold steel, a nice breeze, something red, angry words.

You awoke with a start, clutching your chest and gasping. Tearing yourself into an upright position, sitting upright and shuddering at the memories of your dream.

"Fuck." You sighed, relaxing your muscles while you lowered yourself down. Propping yourself up on your elbows while you continued to take deep breaths. Trying to calm your racing pulse. When you did dream it was never good, not softly colored butterflies and odd horizons. Just old memories of dead people, some rewritten into happier times, when you awoke all you could feel was survivors guilt and self hatred, some much darker. Sometimes they screamed at you for what you'd done. Called you a whore and a coward, you always tried to reason with them but they never listened. Just like you and the boys, them begging for you to use your head and you disregarding their pleas. 

At your feet lay Goober, he'd moved in your sleep, now at the foot of the bed as he always did when you and Brian slept in the bed together. That could only mean one thing, you shifted your gaze over to the mass that lay only a few inches away. Dark blue moonlight illuminating his features. Eyes wide open and looking right at you, covered in a thin sheen of cold sweat.

Your mouth was about as dry as sandpaper. Despite wanted to chat him up, you shifted to look to your side. A full glass of water set out on the nightstand. You didn't put it there. Throwing your head back and downing the thing in a couple of seconds of desperate need for hydration. Slamming the glass down on the nightstand and gasping for air, you laid yourself onto the mattress. Back no longer sore, hands resting on your belly, eyes locked with Brian's. "Thanks."

"No problem." He quietly responded, in the same position as you. Back flat, hands on his stomach. You wondered if he was watching you sleep or idly staring as the ceiling before you had jolted awake.

The two of you stayed like that for some time, looking into one another's eyes through the darkness. Just barley able to make out one another silhouettes in the moonlight.

It was fucked up, the last guy you killed hadn't even been cried over. Just a reaction of _'aw shit_ ', acceptance that you sucked, but no big show of water works. You were getting worse, time was running out for you. 

Did Brian know it too?

The thoughts should have overwhelmed you, had you breathing into a lunch bag to try and calm yourself down but instead you felt an odd sense of clarity. Maybe it was the rest, maybe the water, maybe you and your lover laying in a dark room together. Awake, aware, and full of dread.

The clarity told you to talk, cut the fluff, get straight to the point, "I'm not sorry about yesterday." You croaked, eyes flickering off his for a split second as the moonlight dimly lit up his dress. A typical hoodie, black you believed. Proudly proclaiming, ' _Yeah, I'm high on CRACK!'_

_'C- Respect'_

You felt yourself crack a smile as your eyes traveled down the list of letters.

' _R - For'_

You wondered where he got this shit.

' _A - Women'_

Truly, Brian was a feminist. 

' _C -'_

Snorting at the sight of the words stopping but the letters continuing. God, he wore the dumbest shit.

' _K -'_

You loved him so much. 

Yet this was serious, you forced yourself to look back into his eyes. A dim gleam of amusement at the sight of you reading his stupid hoodie in his hazel eyes. Quickly fading while he processed your anti-apology.

Continuing slowly, thoughts processing themselves as they passed your cold lips, "I know that I can die. I know that I worry you all the time. I worry myself a lot actually." There was no hollow and humorless laugh, too tired to fake it til you could make it, "I am fucking horrified of being in pain." Every word delivered with a weighty angst, "Never seeing you guys again terrifies me. _I don't want to die."_

"I want to keep on living, even though I know I don't deserve to." You kept up the barrage of harsh admissions. He wanted to hear this, needed to hear this. That despite your headstrong exterior, you were still scared like he was, that there was enough doubt in your mind to consider the idea of failure, death, _rejection._ "But," You kept on going, through the pain, through the heartache that his desperation brought you, "I don't want to keep living like this." You were a horribly broken record, repeating the same sentiments, sounding ugly. An ear grating sound that no one wanted to hear. Yet you kept on saying the message anyway, over and over, repetition that could only be stopped by being completely broken. 

The need to ramble was high, wanting to somehow convince the smartest person you'd ever met to side with you, the ballsy buffoon. Throwing verbal spaghetti at a metaphorical wall, hoping something you'd say would stick.

"I love all of you, I don't want to leave you but I think I have a chance." You'd throw all your cards on the table, show your greatest weakness to the one with a silver tongue and an education in psychology. He told you about his school days idly before, just what he did, majored it, that he liked it. He'd quickly chanced the subject. "Sometimes I worry though. Since you guys are proxies, does that mean that you're stuck?" You didn't want to believe it but it was a very real possibility, "What if I find a way to get out, I know it's unlikely, but what if I do and you guys can't come with me?" You wondered it The Operator was like a pricey industrial glue, completely impossible to remove things that had been glued together by it's influence. Sure, you were in deep, you could very well be stuck as well but you were yet to be deemed a proxy. In your head you still had wiggle room, just enough to escape. Struggle growing strong with their verbal validation, yet not as strong as they could be due to their submission, their inaction. 

He didn't answer your rhetorical questions, voicing them raising the hairs on the back of your neck. Yet you kept on going, the thought suddenly popping its ugly head in your mind, "What would you do," You never wanted it to come to this, "If I could escape but you couldn't?"

Silence didn't fall over the two of you in an uncomfortable lull, he immediately replied, like he'd considered it before, in a genuine croak, "I love you," Your heart soared hopefully, "So I'd let you go."

His lack of touch, the absence of physical comfort was overwhelming with his words. You knew that he wanted what was best for you, willing to let you drift away into obscurity if it meant you were guaranteed safety from **him**. Yet you didn't want that. You didn't want to leave him, any of them. Freedom wasn't all you wanted, leaving them behind was something you think you couldn't bear. They were your collective rock, the only people who could understand your plight, the only people left alive that you could care for. Out in the world were other groups of proxies, other dysfunctional families of fucked up twenty-somethings, but you didn't want them. You only wanted your boys, the ones you loved. The ones who put you through hell. 

They dragged you down here with them of **his** will. Strengthening your resolve when at first they tried to break you down like the shitheads they all were. They were your shitheads. You took it upon your back to get them out of here, even when none of you deserved freedom, even when you were the least equipped for it.

His words made you angry, but at the same time you understood. You'd do the most painful horrible shit to make sure they get to be okay-ish again, willing to get fucked over for them. For him, open wounds and bent limbs were a fact of life to shrug off. The only thing that kept him together were his personal relationships, the lot of you. Brian was willing to get hurt in the only way he could _truly_ be hurt, in a way The Operator couldn't fix, he was willing to let you walk away if it meant you'd live the rest of your life healthy yet not happy.

You didn't snap at him though, his vulnerability, admittance of a weakness, had you softening your verbal blows, turning your body towards him, "I love you, so I'd somehow find a way to take you with me." There was no admittance of defeat, no _'well, I guess if I have no choice'._ Only stupid determination in the face of impossibility, where you initially raised the question of you escaping without him. You quickly turned the idea around in your head, if there wasn't an obvious way out for all of you, a door frame that only you could walk through, you'd burst down the wall next to the door. Force things to go your way. 

Brian followed your lead, rolling onto his side and putting a hand around your waist. He didn't want you to go, comforted by your idea of not leaving him anytime soon. You were convincing in your convictions that you would not perish, that you would stand by him. Or maybe he wanted to hold you in the time he had left, intuition telling him that you were going to do some big stupid stunt soon that would get you killed. If that's what he was thinking, he was right. You refused to die despite the danger, you'd lived through this much, you'd live through your escape, all of your escape.

Moved by your words, your fears laid out on the table, it was only fair that he shared his too, _"I want to get out of here._ " Brian admitted as you scooted closer to him, tenderly placing a hand on the side of his face. Warm to the touch, stubble rough under your fingertips.

He continued, not skipping a beat with your movements but visibly relaxing at your touch, "But I don't know who I am without The Operator." Frowning at his apathetic expression, hopeless dread in his dull hazel eyes, "I don't know if I'm even still human anymore. I don't know if I can get away from **him** , if I could be alive without **his** influence." The grim admission had your heart sinking, inching closer to him yet again, trying to comfort him with your presence. People have died and come back before, the medical field was a wildly advanced one. Brian's coming back to the land of the living was not the work of a doctor though, it was a forced resurrection. The Operator pulling him from the belly of hell itself and into an even worse existence. Constant mental torment, forcing him onto the drug of adrenaline, getting him addicted to the sickening feeling of staining people's floors and walls in their own blood.

Being a murder junkie wasn't something that you could just be weened off of. Humans don't just get resurrected like Christ himself, it was unnatural. You understood how he could feel no longer human.

"Do you not feel like you used to, before all of this?" You quietly questioned, squeezing his hand with legs wrapped around his. Not knowing what else to say, just wanting to hear him talk. Even if every word hurt your heart, the pillar of a man was scared on the inside. Showing it through words for once.

"No." The flat response was expected after his previous words, "You can't feel it but my skin is constantly buzzing, like there's something crawling around just under my skin." The sick humming of The Operators white boney fingers holding unseen puppet stringers above your body, the feeling of being controlled. "There's constant ringing in my ears, it never goes away. The others feel it too, you can't because you're not one of us yet. I'm glad you're not, it's hellish, Toby almost lost it when he became a proxy. But at the same time, I want you to feel it, I want you to be one of _us_ because then you'd be safe, I wouldn't have to worry about you dying in the woods or getting rejected. Then you'd understand what we go through _all the time_. You just don't get how bad it is to constantly feel tickling behind your eyelids or a feeling that makes you think that your nails are going to fall off at any second." He lowly rambled, fear and mild resentment at your ignorance, "It's horrible," He was letting out every little bad thought, being fully vulnerable while keeping on his monotone drone, " **He** puts thoughts in our heads, you know?"

From the strong silent type, to looking at you with eyes that told you not to let go of him. Hold him, comfort him, don't go. You stayed quiet, letting the most deserving person in the world to finally vent out the things he carried on his back. Like you, trying to carry what felt like was the weight of the world on your back, he kept all his fears inside of himself. Now they came pouring out, desperately trying to convince you to stop your fight. Become a proxy, be safe but not free, be with him. 

"It's how we get our missions." He continued, painting proxyhood in a horrible light, a realistic light, "It makes it seem like it's our own thoughts at first. Let's us arrive at the conclusion that since we're hungry, we should go to the bakery on forty-second street. Blow the blonde cashiers brains out and leave the old lady sitting at the third booth alive. But we know that we wouldn't just know that, so we go do it because it wouldn't put things inside our heads without a purpose. It's like a germ I think. I don't think it even can think, it just _does._ No moral compass, no concept of human emotion, just that it wants us to do things for it." The Operator was an enigmatic being in your head, it must have taken years of dedicated thought and observation under it's reign to arrive to the disappointing conclusion that there was no explanation. Though it would never confirm anything with it's proxies, it just did things because. No grand plan, no incoming change, nothing for them to work toward. No goal other than to not mentally deteriorate so badly that they could no longer function. 

"I'm," You didn't know what else to say, "Sorry."

"If you were sorry then you'd stop." He croaked, yet his gaze did not hatefully harden, it was terrified and begging and full of love that you didn't deserve, "You know how much you make me worry and you keep on trying to fight **him** anyways. There is no way out (Y/n). Yes, I'll admit that I want out too, of course I do, but I also know there's _nothing_ you can do." You furrowed your brow with a shaky sigh, upset but not rattled, his eyes were glossy and you wondered when he had last cried, if you had made him cry when you went missing, "Just stop already."

"No." You felt bad for him, you sympathized, you understood. But if giving up was the qualification to be truly sorry then you weren't. You weren't going to hide that. "I love you too much to be sorry, to give up on this."

You didn't let him get another overly astute word in, "I'm glad to know that you want to get out of here too. Now that I know all of you do I feel more confident." His lips pressing into a hard line as you kept on talking, unhappy with you but probably more so himself. Someone so put together yet torn apart, good with his words but too mentally tired to talk circles around your flawed logic and hide his true feelings anymore. Disappointed in himself that he can't stop you. You were hurting him, going on like this, you knew you were but you kept going anyways. Sometimes to do something good you had to be the bad guy. Even though you were already firmly cemented as a shit person, doing good to you meant doing right by your boys. Even if they hated your radical ideas of change, reforming yourselves and moving away from the skinny business loving shithead. 

"I feel like I can do anything with you guys at my side." You sounded like an annoyingly loud anime protagonist, but instead of yelling you were quietly saying words that felt hollow. Knowing that they wouldn't make an effort to try and escape, trying to bring you down in the name of love. They were by your side for anything at all, except for standing up to The Operator, "I know I can get us outta here. We all agree, this sucks, so lets _do something about it."_

No smile found its way onto your lips, no excited tone, no happiness came from your hope. Just dread at the idea of failure, of death. That if you died doing this, you'd never get to see them again. Knowing you left them more broken than they already were. Leaving them even weaker to The Operator's influence. You couldn't die, you wouldn't forgive yourself if you did. Hurting them like that was out of the question. 

With a hissing exhale, he flatly retorted, "I've tried to do _everything_ right. I keep trying to make it easy on you," His grip didn't tighten, he refused to hold you possessively uncomfortably in place, "Killing those _fuckers,"_ he spat the title out hatefully, taking joy in their deaths but still angry at the words they spewed out at you, "Together. I tried to make it better," His flirting, his tempting, "Not just because I want you to give in and just accept that you're going to be a proxy already. But because I _want_ you. I want you alive and you look good in blood and I love it." A halfhearted smile crept onto his face before his expression tightened again.

Though he would not hold you down when he so easily could, his honest words kept you still. Everything he said made you consider his side of things. That side being that he was worried, wanting you to live. Also the fact that he was horrible, enjoying murder and loving the sight of other peoples blood on your clothes and your hands. He'd never be normal like you wanted him to be and he was letting you know it. 

Brian didn't need intricate lies to try and manipulate you with. His honesty cut deep wounds into your psyche but you did not flinch or falter. You feared death and loss but you were like Icarus. Flying close to the sun despite the warnings, prone to destruction and stupid, cocky. You would make sure that you wouldn't end up like him, not a cautionary tale to be told to the next proxy in line. 

"I appreciate it Brian. You've been more helpful than you think, but you gotta know that while you've been trying to push me towards accepting my shitty fate; you've just been building me up. You've been helping me build up my resolve and honestly? I think that you know that, but you don't want to hurt me so you refuse to lash out and say things you know will hurt me and push me away." For once, Brian was getting read instead of doing the reading of another persons character, "It's contradictory, I know you don't want me to keep going but you don't do the things you know would really work because you want this. If you love me, then don't let me go. Hold onto me and _let me help you."_

A sigh without tensed muscles, relaxed and fearful as a tear rolled down his glowing face, the rolling droplet illuminated by the blue moonlight, "You're unbelievable."

You smiled, wiping the tear away with your thumb only to find more were spilling from his eyes. It was hurting him, his mouth twisted into a tight frown, trying to hold in a cry, but you kept on going for his sake, wearing a brave face that you both knew had a sea of fear beneath it.

"You're damn right I am." Stupid ideas, incoming bad decisions, hubris.

You were running high off of shaky validations that they wanted this to. Yet they stood still, stuck while you could move. You'd use that movement to your advantage, freeing them of unseen restraints and dragged them out the locked gates of freedom. Breaking the fucking doors down with everything you had in you. 

You'd be a trail blazer. Escape was a double edged sword, violently swinging back and forth. Either it'd miss you or cut you right in half. 

With a dim idea of a plan in mind, you cuddled up close to Brian. Holding his stiff and terrified form, whispering sweet nothings that it would be okay. Ones he was sure not to believe. Your forehead pressed to his while you mumbled out _'it's okay', 'I love you', 'I'm not going anywhere.'_ Repeating the phrases like a hopeful prayer, trying to dry his tears with your thumb and soft sentiments. It didn't work. He kept on quietly crying, looking into your eyes, pleading, desperate, wounded. The hunter becoming a crippled animal, begging silently for mercy while you, once a victim had been transformed into a hunter. Holding a shotgun to his head, looking to take his agony away, hopefully it'd be quick and painless. Yet under The Operator's reign, nothing was that simple or that easy. 

You made sure he drifted off to sleep, arms wrapped around you as his softly shuddering breaths dimmed into steadying breathing. You broke him down just as he'd once done to you, hopeless and scared. You'd do what he'd done for you though, show him the better side of things. Make things better. Be his rock.

Time was ticking down quickly. Plan formulating, all that you needed to do was act. Yet the idea of death terrified you, you'd give yourself a bit more time before you bust the grim reapers door down, demanding that he blow you. You were determined but the possibility of perishing was hanging heavy over you, all of you. Time was running out for you only because you deemed it so. At your feet lay two paths, one leading to a tombstone the other empty, nothing impeding the long road ahead. Freedom to go anywhere you'd like, hand in hand with your boys. Though you knew, you were like an inmate on death row, waiting for a last minute miracle appeal of their case. If you were to die, you wanted one hell of a last meal. Go out with one fuck of a bang. Literally. It'd suck if you were to die after Toby definitely blabbered onto Tim about your night together, hearing all the gross details because Toby didn't understand the idea of subtly or tact. Tim didn't deserve to be done like that, dick dry while you rotted in the ground. That'd be just plain rude of you to do. Also, you wanted to see what the biggest prude was like in bed. 

With stupidly lewd thoughts in mind, you drifted off to sleep once more. Not forgetting about the plan that you'd soon set into motion. Make it or break it, it was going to change everything. You only had hope and their opinions on your side, every other variable unknown. 

You could do it. Despite the terrifying unknown, despite having an eldritch god as your enemy, you could do it.


	52. 51 - Flip Of A Switch

**Heavy NSFW Mentions / Straight Up NSFW**

You awoke before Brian for once. His usually stony or smiley face was completely relaxed, soft, vulnerable. You hoped you didn't die, then you'd miss out on views like this. Waking up side by side with someone that you loved. There was also the desire to not fuck up his feelings, not further freeze his already icey as fuck heart. When he did awake, slowly blinking and with a soft hum, the two of you didn't let go of one another. Time didn't speed up or slow down for either of you, just ticking on by at its normal pace while you held each other. Impending doom loomed over your heads, but he wouldn't let go, wouldn't take his hands off your skin and held you tenderly. Gentle holding something that was like glass to him, like you could be broken, like you were fragile and not a stubborn unbreakable asshole. You'd show him. You weren't something to be overly careful with, you were not something to be broken. 

He had to go. Another long mission with Toby. As the thoughts were forced into his head, he spoke them aloud and you heard the chilling details of what his forced thought process was. Six people were going to die tonight, middle aged, all parents, their children left alive and alone. You wondered where they went wrong, why The Operator had its eyeless gaze on them. Then again, Brian speculated that the tall fucker didn't think like a human did. It just wanted. There could very well be no rhyme or reason to why they were going to have their chests cracked open, ribs pulls apart and guts spilled on linoleum. The two of you didn't know, but what you did know was that he had to go. Taking the same rifle with him that shot Alexis through the tits. 

Tim was home with you, he headed out too though. Not to go grocery shopping or anything, instead he further showed how much you rubbed off on him. Going for a walk to clear his head, telling you he'd be at the river, smoking. The same one you talked at so long ago, his jacket draped over your shoulders softly. You would have paid him a visit but you could hardly remember the direction it was in. Though as time passed on you grew more accustomed to the forest surrounding the house, things further out were still a jumbled mess in your mind. 

It was nice though, to have some alone time that wasn't really alone time, the wind shifting your hair as you thought. Walking in circles around the house with Goober, thinking of better times in which you were not six feet under. You could only hope Tim was okay all by himself, thinking the same thing you were with an ever grimmer disposition. 

Coming into the house, removing Goober's leash from his collar, the dog scrambled toward his water bowl. While he lapped away you lifted your arms over your head, yawning. The evening was a warm one, for once you didn't wear a sweater of some sort, instead a stolen white tank-top and soft shorts not torn by twitching hands. 

You didn't want to be alone longer than you already had been. If you drowned under the pressure of The Operators will, if you crashed and burned, if you were gutted, if you were brain dead, you wanted to spend as much time in their presence and space as much as you could before that happened. Because no matter what happened, whether you died or survived, you were planning to go out with a bang. 

Tim's mattress was stiff, hard as a rock, if you asked him about it he'd probably say that he liked it that way, what a fucking old man. You thought, turning the page to the next set of crosswords with a smile, you were such an old lady. You glanced up from the white pages as Tim opened the door to his own room, eyes immediately locking onto your form, sitting on his bed. Back up against the headboard and legs crossed. 

"What's up?" You casually inquired, lowering the booklet to get a better look at him. Dark gray sweats and a ratty flannel, looking like a tired lesbian. It reminded you of ex's of days long passed, you hoped wherever those girls were, they were okay. Not in some murder house, but if they were then you'd hope they have something as nice to look at as Tim. 

Not sounding abrasive, more so confused, he asked, "What are you doin' in my bed?"

You patted the empty space beside you. The same one that he always slept in, his spot. You never saw him sleeping on the other side when you came to wake him up or bring food to his room on particularly bad days. Never sleeping on the other side, used to sleeping like that no matter the circumstances, even black out drunk. Jay and him must have slept side by side like that for years, on their own respective sides but still next to each other. Together through their terrible situation, Jay leaving Tim forever to sleep alone on his designated side of the bed. 

Fuck Jay. You'd sleep by Tim's side, not leaving him high and dry with your blood staining the floor. 

Pushing the thoughts away, you spoke, "Sleep with me." 

A shit eating grin on your lips as he coughed and sputtered into his fist. "(Y/n)? What?" 

His confusion only fueled your desire to be an adorable nuisance, "Don't take it the wrong way, Timbert." You were full of shit, you completely meant for it to sound like that. "I'm just chillin'. Come relax," You patted the mattress faster, "Just you and me tonight." He was red the kind of red you get when you run a mile. Bright and unsubtle, the tips of his ears pink. 

You knew exactly what you were doing and what you wanted. Yet you couldn't push too hard, Tim was a fragile one, repressed as fuck, though he was still sweating like a whore in church. Toning it down for a moment was the best option, "You just gonna stand there or what? Just want your company."

"Ah, right, yes." He awkwardly nodded, approaching the mattress. 

You did really want some alone time with him, quietly in his company. It was nice, domestically sitting in his bed, doing your own thing while in each others presence, arms and legs touching. Him scribbling in a leather bound notebook, glancing at you every once in a while. You kept trying to look over his shoulder but he'd always get softly defensive over it. Shutting the little book until you turned back to your crosswords. Shrugging, you respected his apprehension of not wanting you to read something that could be so personal. Even if you were together he still had boundaries that you wouldn't push.

**NSFW Begins**

He kept on looking at you, trying to hide his gaze, quickly looking away whenever you caught him in the act. It made you smile, he couldn't seem to stop, it was cute. You were reminded of his obvious and intense staring back at the diner, even though that was months ago and you were touching and comfortable he still liked to stare like a creep then pretend like he wasn't. Then you caught his eye for longer than before, noticing with a frown that he wasn't looking at your face. It was with lips formed into an exaggerate 'O' that you realized, following his now averted gaze, that he was starting at your chest. The stolen tank top was thin, it didn't really cover your skin like it was supposed to. There was also the fact that white fabric had a well known problem of letting things show that weren't supposed to, being unintentionally sheer in the right light. 

"Timothy Wright!" You playfully barked, his head whipped over to you and he finally met your eye, not before his eyes were on their default place. A stupid grin on your lips, _"Are you looking at my tits?!"_

_"UH."_ You took his flustered state as a yes even though you already knew the truth. You let him sputter out a few more 'uhm's and 'uh's, watching him struggle with the embarrassment. Though the mild shame was a bit hard to watch; in the environment in which he grew up, exploring sexuality and attraction was probably very difficult and looked down upon. Through bad personal experience with intimacy, rough associations growing up, and a generally awkward disposition, you found it understandable as to why he was squirming so much. "I- Sorry."

It was entertaining to watch your boyfriend blush and splutter, but you had to help the poor man out, "Tim, I'm messing with you." You set your crossword on the floor, throwing it down lazily, "We're dating," You reminded with raised brows as he looked at you with dumbly agape lips, "I don't care if you look at my titties." You grabbed the hem of your tank-top, "In fact," He didn't look uncomfortable just surprised, "Here, I'll make it easier for ya." Pulling the thing up, over, and off of your head and letting it rest beside your sitting form, then placing your hands daintily back in your lap to look up at him.

It was an act of knowing that he was too repressed to do it himself, and his eyes still told you he wanted something more than just sitting side by side and chilling out. You wanted this too, as a dead girl walking or maybe just a future Starbucks barista with an unspoken dark past, forcing your way into society while trying to hide your mental instability. 

He was staring which was progress, he didn't look away quickly under your gaze. Honestly though, he looked like he'd never seen a boob in real life before. You wouldn't be surprised if Jay was the only person he'd ever been with, he never talked of other ex's. You wondered if he also psychoanalyzed you, being apprehensive of things that would remind you of Jen, hating her the same way you hated Jay. Dying and leaving you fucked up in her wake. 

"So," You clicked your tongue, placing a hand on his thigh in another soft power move, "Are you gonna kiss me or what?"

He set his booklet to lay open on the bedside table with an, "Yeah, okay." Dry and nervous, cute. It was time to take the led for your leader once more in the aspect of intimacy. Though you'd do your best not to push him too hard.

The second he turned his head back to you, you pressed forward, placing your lips gently on his. He didn't tense under your touch or freeze up, instead he went with it. He didn't push things to go too fast, the two of you just placing peck upon peck on one another's lips. It went on like that for some time before you actually parted your lips, things getting a little more heated while your free hand idly traveled up to the top of his flannel. Fingers resting on the topmost button; he didn't push you away. Instead one of his hands undid the first button for you, not wanting to pull away from the smooch to tell you it was okay. Snickering against him, your hand worked away tirelessly at undoing every little button.

You prodded the tip of your tongue into his mouth, testing the waters. A soft sigh emitting from him, the thick taste of bitter smoke being shared between the two of you as he just barely touched the tip of your tongue with his. Shy, but wanting this. Working with his signals, you slowly worked your way further into his mouth, lips buzzing as they pressed together. Him moaning into you while you slid your tongue along his, hand teasingly traveling up his now exposed chest. Rough uneven skin, adorned with thick hair, his body leaning into your touch eagerly.

He copied your movement, one of his big hands latching on to your thighs while the other came to your chest. Gently cupping your breast, not immediately attacking your nipple or gripping the flesh like a water balloon to be popped. Just copping a feel while hums were exchanged, grossly wet smacks, lips parted and tongues intertwined. He finally started to move his hand while your hand ghosted up his thigh. His legs twitching apart eagerly much to your cocky delight. While he softly massaged your breast, nipple rolling between his fingers. It felt nice, he had a general idea of what to do, he was an adult man after all. You expected him to at least known that touching a girls tit was a pretty alright way to turn her on. It was working, you moaning quietly into his mouth as your hand zeroed in on it's destination.

Said destination was an obvious bump in his sweats. Just resting your hand atop the stiff mass got you a sharp whine from the man. Chuckling at the reaction, you further pawed at his hard on. Every movement of your hand, soft gropes and traveling up and down his clothed length got you intoxicating whines and gasps. You felt absolutely high on power over your leader, putty to be molded in your hands.

You pulled back from your lip lock, taking your hand away from him at the same time. Taking in his red face and needy half-lidded gaze with lustful pride. 

He finally spoke up, "I didn't tell you to stop." Breathy with a commanding edge. That was cute coming from the person who was just melting at your touch, thinking that he could make sounds like that and then you'd just let him take the reigns. You liked to push buttons and see where that landed you but it felt like the roles had been reversed. Him pushing at your buttons to see what you'd do.

A grin across your lips, you told him, "Take off your fucking pants and I'll keep going." A lustful growl, commanding your mighty leader.

He dumbly blinked at your forwardness for a moment before he had his hands on his waist band. You were doing the same, taking off each others pants was an option but the two of you were getting a bit desperate. Also, you'd bet it'd take him forever, stuttering and looking away before he could actually pull your shorts off. 

Throwing your clothes god knows where, you caught a glimpse of a box in his open bedside table, a wolfish smirk spreading on your lips. Did Brian buy him those too or did he go out of his own volition and pick them up? If Brian picked them up did that mean he just knew how big Tim's dick was through years of stalking the guy and seeing him fuck Jay? God, you didn't want to wrap your head around that chestnut. 

Thick was all you could think when you saw his dick, fully erect already. Cute. You'd hardly even done anything yet.

"So do I just," He was looking to you as well, taking in your form with amazement, "Stick it in or?" You wheezed, he had definitely never slept with a woman or just someone with a vagina. He got the general idea that you could self lubricate rather quickly, understanding anatomy but not the intricacies. 

"Uh," Sure he could probably, you were sure as hell turned on but you wanted to savor this, "No." Foreplay might just not be his forte, too impatient for it. Yet it was yours and you seemed to be the one in charge, him willing to follow your lead. Sadistic power getting to your head, you crawled onto his lap, straddling his waist, trapping him between your thighs. 

"Then what am I supposed to do?" Coyly asking for direction but not being outright about it, you cracked a grin. "I mean like," His blush was adorable, trying to hide his request for direction under word vomit, "Wha- _Ah."_

Just the tips of your fingers held onto him, teasing tracing up and down his length. Hardly applying any pressure, hardly any contact but nonetheless he softly moaned and bucked into the touch, eyelids fluttering shut.

"Cute." You lowly mused, shifting your hand to wrap gingerly around his thick shaft, taking in his whiny gasps as you ever so slowly glided your hand up his dick. A thin layer of sticky pre-cum lightly lubricating your hand already. 

Eyes softened and lips agape, whiny moans escaping his lips. Twitching into your hand, greedily taking everything you'd give to him. Abrasive defensiveness falling away with his sultry desire to be dominated. You could not fucking believe that this man had supposedly topped Jay for years. 

You had to laugh, "You really like that, huh?" 

"Shut u- _ah._ " He attempted to lowly growl out, a weak defense while not pushing you off. Instead grinding into you desperately. 

"Tch." You didn't intend to go so hard on him, thinking you'd go slow and steady but seeing him melt before you made it hard to restrain yourself, the hand around him speeding up as he whined.

"You're easy to please, huh?" You offhandedly belittled him for being so easy to turn on for such a prude. 

In response he bucked into your hand, he liked that, being talked down to. You said it in the heat of the moment, wanting to apologize for getting so nasty so quickly but he liked it, so you just rolled with it.

"Maybe, what of it?" Tim gruffly retorted, red faced while one of his hands reached out for your throbbing heat. Wet and riled up from seeing him so vulnerable in the best kind of way.

"Nothing," You hummed in mock defense while his hand slid itself into place between your legs, "I just think it's cute." Clumsily two fingers rubbed up and down, you think he was looking for your clit. Knowing what to do but not knowing where. Unlike Toby he wouldn't need such an in depth tutorial but he needed adjustment. Rubbing way too high and way too soft.

You guided him once more, pushing his hand into you and downwards. Fingers on either side of your clit you slowly led his thick digits in an offbeat rhythm of rubbing.

"There you g- _oh."_ You'd teasing him for doing the same thing and you were quickly made into a hypocrite. Moaning mid sentence when he hit just the right spot.

He huffed victoriously, finishing your sentence for you snottily, "There you go."

Mocking your dominance and questioning yours authority. He was going to fucking get it. Sure, having him play with you was nice but what you really wanted was to push him over the edge if he was ready. His little comment having you rearing to go, ready to put him in his place.

You released his length, watching his stupid grin falter. Needy. You ripped a rectangular wrapping from the box, a monster condom for his magnum dong.

Holding it up to him, presenting the idea, "You ready?" You bluntly asked, you wanted to cut to the chase. Get to the good stuff already. Going back on your earlier sentiments with the flip of a switch, that switch being Tim being a fucking tease.

Tim caught onto this, raising his brows with a smirk, "I thought you said-"

"Fuck what I said." You huffed, growing impatient.

"Huh." He snickered, you were doing to destroy this fucking man, "Then yeah, if you want." Despite being a haughty little shit, he was still Tim, still bashful.

He wanted to put it on himself, saying that you'd mess it up. But you knew, he was trying to regain his composure. Trying to get his shit together and not let you tease him so easily. The second he had it on, you pushed him down into the mattress after ordering him to come forward. He could lean against the head board but you wanted to to see him lying down. Be completely above him and in control, sure you were comrades on even ground but the idea of him writhing beneath you had you hungry for power.

Dick in hand, he let you take over to guide his length inside of you. Trusting you to know how to handle your own vagina. As you lowered yourself onto him, lowly groaning in pleasure as he penetrated you, you got to hear the wonderful sound once more. Tim letting out a squeak of a moan as he pressed into you. 

"Yeah?" You idly asked, amused by his reaction as you now sat on his lap. Him fully inside of you, yet you on top. 

In response he let out a shuddering sigh. You didn't give much time for the two of you to adjust, hands resting on his chest while you lifted yourself slowly, teasingly lowered yourself onto him. His whimper had your pussy needily throbbing for more, lifting and lowering, quickly adding a roll to your hips to force his hard length into your g-spot. Neither of you saying anything while you took him for a ride. His hands on your hips, letting you fuck him while he lay there, taking it like a pillow princess. Not that you minded, he was repressed and would need a bit of time before he really got into things. It was also just a wonderful sight to see him as your mercy. 

_"Fuck."_ You drawled, grinding into him while his thick length was fully buried inside of you. Deliciously stretching you out more than you ever had been, despite being fully ready for him, wet and loosened up, he was a big guy.

You wanted more, you wanted to go harder, you wanted to have him writhing even more. Leaning forward, you put a hand on either one of his shoulders for support while continuing the entrancing roll of your hips on his dick. "Hey." You casually greeted as your eyes met, "How's it going down there?"

Flustered but smiling, he retorted, "Pretty fuckin' good."

"Oh-" You brought yourself forward before roughly slamming yourself down his length. Taking in his wanton sigh with a grin, "-Glad to see you're enjoying yourself."

"Shut the fu- _ah,"_ He gasped as you slammed yourself down onto him once more, "Fuck up." He didn't mean it, smiling while he spoke, fingertips sinking into your soft flesh. Further guiding you, he just liked to play coy, he liked being put in his place.

You were going to so call him on his shit, "Do you really want me to?" Another grinding slam, you letting out a low moan as he hit you in all the right places, "Hm?"

His only response was a drawled whimper, hands sliding back to hold onto your ass. Clutching at the skin like it was his lifeline, you keeping him grounded in reality, you wouldn't let him go. Wouldn't let him be swept away and simply lay there and whine, you'd keep him talking, present, here. 

As you adjusted your hands on his shoulders, you accidentally found one of your hands against the side of his neck. Pressing lightly on his neck while bringing yourself down onto him once more. You were about to apologize but instead you squeaked, being harshly slammed into, his hips bucking into you. The action making your fingers lay themselves down on his neck, unintentionally resting it there while reeling from the pleasure. Another rough slam of him into you with a, " _Fuck!"_ Tim lifting his hips off the mattress ever so slightly. Using his hands to guide your hips back and forth.

You looked at the hand resting on his neck and realized your power. You readjusted your hold on his neck, pressing your fingertips into his flesh. A fat rush of dopamine filling your system feeling his pulse fluttering beneath your fingers. In control, able to hurt, yet you wouldn't. This was an act of trust, a tightrope that he was letting you walk. 

The newfound pressure had him twitching, grip faltering as you met his pace. Grinding harshly into him as he let a mix of whines and growls. "You're into choking?" You lightly chided between gasps, playfully squeezing his throat. You didn't things would get so freaky so quickly but you didn't mind and he didn't either.

" _Fuck yeah."_ Either an answer to your question or a phrase uttered subconsciously you couldn't tell. His eyes rolling back into his head, absolutely losing his mind, you had to ground him. You threw yourself down, pressing your chest onto his. Moving your hand so there was room for your mouth to work. Placing soft kissed along his skin, him whimpering at the sensation. It didn't take much time for you to be sucking on his neck, sinking your teeth into his flesh, marking him up as yours.

"You're a whiny one, huh?" You hissed into his ear, grinding your hips in teasing circles.

In response you received his fingers further digging into your ass, forcing your hips up and slamming them down sending a sudden wave of intense pleasure through you.

" _Tim."_ You whimpered, shuddering a moment, pausing as he kept on drilling into you.

"Look who's whining now." He snickered, words coming out slowly and awkwardly at first. Unsure about the idea of dirty talk before his voice dipped into one lustful and low, intoxicating. 

You liked it, flustered for a moment before remembering who the fuck you were. His words made you want to come undone for him, melt and become a whiny mess for him. But you also loved seeing him this way, the prude reduced to a sultry puddle. You were conflicted but you were still on top, you wanted to ride out this wave of power for just a bit longer, literally.

Grip increasing around his throat, nipping at a developing hickey, fresh and tender. You smiled against his, slicked with saliva, flesh. The sound of his whining moan was a reward like no other.

"I think you're the real whiner here." You teased in a huff.

The two of you went on like that, trying to get the other to whimper. But the two of you knew that you were in charge. What you said was the motherfucking law, your leader bending to the will of a dead woman walking.

It only made sense that it'd happen eventually with how hard you were going. His dick accidentally dislodging itself from you with a discomforting ' _pop'._

"Ooph!" You shuddered at the unpleasant sensation, sitting up. The two of you slicked in a shiny layer of sweat. "You good?" You inquired sweetly, dominating tone gone in the momentary lull in your activities. 

He let out a sigh, not as worn out as you were as he was on bottom, "Yeah." A smile adorning his reddened cheeks. 

Though you'd taken a break, wordlessly agreeing to catch your breath, you weren't done being a tease, "What's in like to get dommed by the biggest sub on the planet?" You asked with a cutely innocent tilt of the head. Not bringing up his past sexual history of being a supposed top. It was a little hard to believe, you were incredibly willing to get fucked up, be played with like putty, but putting Tim in his place hit different. You weren't the best in the world at being dominant but you were surprising yourself with all the dirty talk, mildly degrading and playful. You probably picked that up from Brian and Toby, putting your own spin on it.

Whipping sweat from your brow, Tim pushed himself up. Sitting up even when you'd worked so hard to fuck him into the mattress and keep him down. Yet here the little bastard was, hands on your waist with a weakly playful snarl. Instead of replying to your question, he growled out darkly, "Get on your hands and knees." 

You rose your brows at him, liking that tone but you sure as hell weren't going to do so without a few biting remarks. Maybe you could do what he'd done, be on bottom but maybe you could still be dominant from down there. Though his tone told you he wanted to properly fuck you up, you liked that idea. A little tired from riding the ever loving shit out of him but part of you didn't want to let go of your intoxicating power. 

You came to a compromise with yourself, take it but be fucking annoying, _"Make me."_

And make you he did. Strong hands lifting you off his hips, placing you back into the firm mattress. Gently guiding you down, Tim wanting his way but not being too forceful as it was your first time. Still, things were getting pretty hot and heavy for your first time sleeping with such a prude. A hand on your inner thigh pulled your legs apart, exposing you to him, wet and ready. 

Instead of immediately slamming himself into you, he said to you in a gravely tone, "Easy." A callback to what you'd lightly degraded him as earlier.

You huffed, looking over your shoulder at him behind you. Standing tall on his knees, "Says the bottom." 

"Hey, quick question?" Tim asked in his normal speaking voice.

"Oh? What's up?" You blinked, ready to answer any questions or concerns. 

"Do you want me to spank you?" Voice dipping into more dangerous territory, a coy play at consent that set you up as the one who wanted something. Framing you as the desperate one, willing to give him permission to mildly hurt you. 

Littler fucker.

You'd had a blade to your throat and hands squeezing your jugular, a little spanking sounded like a walk in the park. Haughtily, you began, "I think it'd be cute to see you try to take control like that, so yeah." Playing just as coy as he was, turning it back around at him while trying to assert some dominance while you were literally on your hands and knees.

With your sharp tongued approval, he blinked at you, processing your words for a moment. The bashfulness in him having him take awhile to burst into action. The spiteful bastard in him taking the wheel once he did. A quick smack was laid onto the side of your ass, a sudden light sting. He held back for the first but you still felt it. Gripping the bed sheets with a squeak, painfully empty. Your reaction seemed to really spur him on as another sudden ' _smack'_ was heard through his room as well as your pitiful whine, clearly enjoying yourself. 

His hand rested itself on the tingling skin that had been stricken in the same place twice, the pressure lightly alleviating the pain. It was not enough, you wanted more, you wanted to feel the pain, longer, harder, the worse the better.

"And you still think that you're in charge." Tim berated with a chuckle, pressing into your entrance. 

"I am!" You argued in a breathy sigh as he slid into you. 

"Uh-huh." His voice laden with disbelief, other hand coming to the small of your back. Lightly pushing you down, suggesting you give yourself up to him. Let him completely take over and have absolute dominance over you. 

The idea of being put in your place was an exciting one but you were still a bastard though and though. "If you want that you're gonna have to make me." You pulled out the powerful phrase once more with a smirk.

The shit eating smile on your face quickly morphed into a look of shock as another harsh slap was laid across your ass. In a new place but twice as hard as the first two. As you moaned, your pussy throbbed around him at the delicious feeling of being completely filled mixed with the stinging pain. It had you weak at the knees, harshly gripping the bed sheets as his hand pushed you down. You let yourself be manhandled into place, still reeling at the wonderful pain. Chest on the mattress, slightly propped up by your forearms while your ass was still raised. 

He snapped his hips flush into yours, you letting out a long drawn out moan. He let out a laugh, laying another intoxicating smack across your ass with sharply lustful words, "Dirty fuckin' goddamn brat." He rambled, pulling almost completely out of you before slamming himself into you. Taking in your whimper with the same pride you took in his.

You turned your head to him as he rammed himself into you, you'd really riled him up. Pushing him off of the edge and him grabbing you as he was falling.

"That's me, Timothy!" You stupidly chortled before getting hit once more, the hardest he'd gone all night. You coming forward and inch or so with the force, hotly tingling as you cried out, face in the sheets.

That was one way to shut you up. "I bet you fuckin'," He panted between thrusts, "Like that, huh?" He mockingly mimicked your style of dirty talk. Either he hadn't done so in such a long time that he didn't really know what to say anymore or he was being a tease, or both. 

"Gee," You moaned out, "I wonder!"

"You really wanna test me in this position?" Tim growled with a particularly hard trust that had you pleasurably reeling, pressing your hips into him needily.

Letting out a wanton, " _Fuck!"_ Much to his joy, sadistically chuckling at your whiny downfall. You had to shoot something back, so you grunted, "Yeah, I fucking do!" Holding in a pitiful whimper when he spanked your tender flesh once more, "You're real cocky for someone who was totally almost crying while getting ridden." You teased cruelly while trying to look back at him, purposely pushing his buttons. 

_"Yes, Tim, fuck!"_ You couldn't hold the weak whine in for long, loving the pain, the fact that you were right, the feeling of getting your guts rearranged. He never took you out to a nice diner and a move but you didn't really care. You were just glad that things turned out the way that they did. With you not dead on the floor of the cabin after you dining room showdown all those months ago.

His voice was mocking, clearly on a sexual power trip, speaking akin to how Masky spoke, playfully sadistic, "You don't know how fuckin' good you look when you're at my mercy." 

Before it was terrifying, bone chillingly so, but now the spark of old fear mixed with the overwhelming feeling of being railed had you babbling, "Right back at 'cha."

Another spanking, another loud squeak as you slammed your hips back into his length, _"Brat."_

 _"_ Come on, Timbert," You egged him on with a grin, "Admit that you like it, being my bitch." You playfully spat, the thought of him whimpering beneath you had you smiling. Yet him growling and punishing you for your cockiness currently had you moaning. 

"I'll admit," He buried himself inside you, guiding your body and having you grind into him, "I like it when you think that you're in charge when you're clearly not." He continued to make an example of his words, making you do whatever he wanted. You let him, liking being controlled in such a grabby way. 

Tim was obviously deflecting, playing coy. Cute. Yet you were running out of the mental capacity to babble out sharp arguments at him, growing agonizingly close. Him pulling out so many wickedly pleasurable surprises overwhelming you as well as the feeling of his dick rubbing so harshly into your g-spot. All you had to say was a simple needy command, _"Fuck me harder."_

Technically, by him listening to you, he was admitting that to some extent you were still in charge. Maybe that was your ego trying to maintain itself. You couldn't really dwell too deeply on the thought as you got rammed into mercilessly, smack after smack placed upon your ass. Him babbling out curses and little degrading comments, but the best of all was, " _(Y/n)!"_

Especially when he practically screamed it out, somewhat bent over your form as his dick hotly throbbed inside of you. " _Fuck, fuck, shit, (Y/n)!"_ He shuddered as he came, you still slamming you hips into him, chasing after your own orgasm.

Which came rather quickly as the sound and feeling of him cumming, lustful pride having it hit you like a tidal wave. Intensely throbbing around his dick, tears prickling at the corners of yours eyes, crying out, " _Tim, I'm fucking- ah!"_ Proclamation interrupted by him giving you one last thrust, huffily chuckling at your moan and unraveling. 

Panting and sweaty, there was a wordless agreement that he should pull out. The deed was done and you were exhausted. You flopped onto your stomach in a huff as he took care of the dirty condom. Ass still harshly tingling, now that you weren't fucking it actually hurt quite a bit.

"God damn Tim, you got one fuck of an arm." Of course he did, you knew how strong he was. Thoroughly enjoying his lack of mercy, your moans had grown lewder the harder he hit you. 

He threw the thing away while you glanced over at him. A long time ago, you commented to Sully that he had a pancake ass. Now without pants you could get a good look at it. Square and flat, he didn't have a pancake ass, he had a Hank Hill ass. The next time you slept with him, you'd have to give it a good smack. You'd bet that he was totally into it.

**NSFW Ends**

"Fuck, are you okay? I've got this skin cream that might help." Tim quickly padded over to his bedside table, rooting through the uppermost drawer.

"You have ass skin cream?" You snickered, "And yeah, I'm alright. Better than alright actually." You mused, still checking out his butt.

"Glad yer good but no!" He huffed shaking his head, "It's for sensitive skin," He argued while pulling out a white tube, "I've got eczema." 

"So you're going to put eczema cream on my ass?" You giggled, soft after all the intensity. You didn't know how that was going to help.

"Yes, got a problem with that?" He rose his brows challengingly, squeezing out a little bit of the cream into his palm. Nothing you said would change his mind, set in stone on helping you the way he saw was best fit. The two of you were much more alike then either of you would admit.

"Naw," You smiled softly at him, "You're just such an old guy."

"An old guy you slept with." He retorted softly while gingerly applying the cream. You hissed, feeling the coolness against the painful heat. The initial discomfort quickly falling away, the cool sensation taking the pain away.

Sighing in relief, you looked at him with love, "Yeah." 

He coughed, sputtering out a mess of words that you didn't understand. From going ape shit to being bashful once more, Tim had the unexpected range. "I uh," He regained his ability to coherently speak once more, "I'm sorry that my apology 'bout fuckin' up your whole life was so shit."

"I didn't mind," You shrugged as he continued to idly rub the cream onto your skin, "An apology is an apology. I know you meant it, even if you were drunk off your ass."

"Still," He sounded mildly displeased with himself, "Either way, sorry from the sober Timbert."

You snorted, "You like that nickname?"

"Maybe." He bashfully admitted, removing his hand from your tender flesh.

"You're cute." You reminded him while he shifted to put the cream away.

"I'm not cute." Tim weakly defended himself while shoving it into the drawer.

"You're _adorable!"_ You doubled down, loving the sight of him blushing, "So much so that if I ever get the chance, I'm so making you a shitty mix tape." You recalled him talking about them, liking the way music used to be played. The idea of illegally ripping all his favorite songs and some of your favorites as well as songs that reminded you of him onto a tape, was a temping one. "And, to boot! I'm thinking about writing you a lil shitty poem Maybe you can make it into a song or something." Yet you hadn't gotten the chance to do it just yet. The idea of poetry came to you while working away at your crosswords, coming across flowery fifty-cent words that'd make a teenagers heart melt. If you were to write a poem for him, you'd use words you actually knew the definition of, make it come from your rotten little heart. The idea of him singing your softly crude words had you smiling, thinking to the future. It could be great.

He paused, seeming to consider something before grabbing his leather bound note book and setting it open beside you. "I've actually uh," Your smile was wide, spread ear to ear, "Written some shitty poetry about you. It's not any good I just," He wistfully sighed, "Ya'know?"

You were sure it would be wonderful, even if he had the writing tact of a third grader, you'd take whatever he took time and effort to make for you and treasure it. 

_I don't know how to put an image to words,_

_How to paint the worded lady on fire,_

_Burning bright in a blaze of glory,_

_Beautiful,_

_Get close and she'll melt your fucking skin off,_

_Warm hands able to open you inside out,_

_Smile like the sun to melt away the past,_

_Able to cauterize,_

_Embers that tell you they'll never go out,_

_Even when doused in cold water,_

_Submerged fifty feet below and freezing,_

_She always comes back,_

_Burning hotter every time,_

_Every time she goes under I wonder if she'll resurface,_

_Break through the black surface tension once more,_

_With that same burning smile,_

_Or succumb at last,_

_And take my smile with her._

Blinking at the message, awe-stuck, goosebumps adoring your skin. Dread. Deep penetrating dread cutting through your belly like a rusty blade, leaving you gutted. He was clearly scared for you, knowing what you were. An impossibility, an anomaly. Still fighting though it all despite all of your weaknesses being exploited. 

You had to push it away, you weren't going to die. In his words, you'd resurface once more. This time pulling yourself out of the metaphorical black waters. Gasping and panting, burning bright while dragging your boys from the murky depths. 

"Tim," You looked up to him with wide eyes, bottom lids heavy with incoming tears, "This is wonderful." He seemed to be looking for your approval, gnawing on his nails nervously while you read. Perking up at the idea that he did something right, eyes seeming to sparkle, "You're a great poet ya'know?"

Despite the love consuming you, your tears weren't from it. Guilt was swimming through your veins, and spilling out of your eyes, you couldn't get rid of the looming thoughts of failure no matter how hard you tried. You better not fucking die. You couldn't die, you couldn't leave Tim. You couldn't leave any of them.

"Really?" His brows lifted in surprise as he sat on the bed beside you. The mattress lightly sinking under his weight, sitting beside your red and relaxing ass. 

"Yes really!" Validating him brought you way too much joy, loving the spark of softness in his eye.

"Thank you." He rubbed the back of his neck, leaning back onto your legs. Not without glancing to his work. Momentarily dropping the subject to ask, "You gonna have a hard time sitting tomorrow?" 

The warm affection that came with receiving such a genuine poem fell away. Tomorrow. The end of a short lived era. Either the end of your life or the day that you'd be finally set free. Time was running out faster than he thought. Your last night together as proxies. The thought left you in the mood to reminisce over your entire pathetic fucking life but you would't, you'd live in the blissful moment until it was time to act.

"Don't worry, I think I'll be on my feet all day tomorrow. Gonna go on a walk I think, maybe bring Goober along. Dunno, we'll see."


	53. 52 - Devil Take The Hindmost

**NSFW Mentions**

The gun was too chunky to be put in your pocket, so it was stuffed deep into the waistband of your jeans. You could have gone already, ran while Tim slept comfortably, but you made up an excuse, another rung to the plan. It ultimately made sense but still, fear had you staring up at the ceiling. Laying beside Tim, wearing his clothes, clothes that you'd stolen when you got out of the shower together, watching him blush and act like he wouldn't let you keep them. They were a comfort for the day that was about to come. Well, the day that already was. When you rose to sneak into Brian's room and steal the same pistol you'd shot so many cans with, you saw the first rays of sunlight peaking through Tim's blinds. Today way the day. You plan wasn't super detailed, your time was running out and you had to do something quick. 

There was a weight in your chest that wasn't your guilty heart, the front pocket of Tim's flannel was buttoned up and something was tucked in it. You checked out what the little unknown was, one of Tim's lighters. Another small comfort, an item of Tim's to ground yourself with. Laying there, attempting to fall back asleep next to your lover one last time, you thought of the boy who's death he smiled at. His Hatsune Miku lighter empowering you that night, ghost supporting you through the fight for your life. You don't think you had his undying support anymore. Sleeping with the people who killed him, the one that tricked you in believing he was a good person, becoming one of them. You were beyond hope but you still had to get out of there, preserve what little bit was left of that girl who worked at a diner.

Dread prolonged your lack of sleep along with your stinging ass. Rolling onto your stomach, the gun in your waist band dug into your hip. There was no one that happy to see you, it was your future prodding at you. Physically reminding you of everything to come.

Shaking. 

Gasping, you pushed yourself up from the soggy pillow, a small pool of saliva dampening it. The pressure on your side had you reeling, whipping your head over to the thing that was touching you. Was it **him?**

Tim, gruff face looking down lovingly at you, his dark hair a shaggy mess as he tried to gently shake you awake. 

You relaxed into his palms, tender touch comforting you yet your racing heart did not calm. You forced on a brave face, an expression of groggy surprise, normalcy. 

"Hey," He spoke softly, gentle and careful, "Brian made breakfast. Get your butt up, dummy." 

Brian.

The man who's room you snuck into last night. He wasn't home at the time, still out on his mission. The theft was the easy part but hiding the bump of the guns outline under your clothes was another, trying to hide your intentions from Brian would be even harder. 

The lightly playful insults tugged at your heartstrings. Yet the edges of your mouth twitched into a smile, "Yeah, yeah, one sec Timbert. I'll be right out."

His flannel was a bit baggy on you, so you used the hanging fabric to cover up the suspiciously bulging mass. Though it wasn't perfect, having to stand with your right leg slightly behind your left. Hip shifted back so the butt of the gun wouldn't poke out obviously though the fabric. 

Good morning's exchanged, they were your last under **his** roof. Freedom only a few hours away, but no giddy excitement came with it, only swirling dread.

Toby.

He was the first to take notice of your odd standing position and the fact that you didn't sit down at your stool. Instead opting to stand in your usual spot. He earnestly asked what was up, squinting at you with a smile. You laughed out an excuse while glancing at Tim, who was sweating like a whore in church. 

"Here you go honey." Brian hummed, sliding a plate of fluffy pancakes before you.

"Thank you bumblebee." You smiled as his hand lingered on your waist a moment. A comforting touch. One that was intentional, you'd been quiet, he knew something was wrong. Trying to steel yourself for the day to come, to stow your intense fear that was crawling out of the woodwork, growing as time passed. 

He didn't just give you a sweetly comforting touch, he also gave you a light tap of a smack on your sore ass with a soft smile.

"AAH!" You squealed, jumping with the sudden reigniting of the stinging pain. Dulled by hours passing, skin mostly healing but still sore to the touch. The playful smack hurt like a bitch. Brian picked up on many things at once, your odd stance, spotty neck, and unwillingness to sit, spelling out the obvious for him.

Tim was coughing into his fist, red faced while Brian cutely giggled at your mutual embarrassment. Toby didn't seem to piece it together until he glanced up at your neck. A sinister grin crossed his lips, his gash covered up by a bandage. Though you doubted he knew much about spanking and all that sort of shit, he got a clear idea _something_ sexual happened and you got wrecked. Not wanting to be left out of the club of people who've smacked your ass, he raised a gloved hand.

If you were in a movie, you bet the director would have had the screen cut to the trees surrounding the house. Birds flying disturbed from their nests while your scream played over the peaceful imagery.

He didn't know his own strength sometimes and it really showed. Toby profusely apologizing while snicking at your lighthearted grumblings of, "My ass, my poor ass." Tim refusing to look in the direction of the affected area, not looking at Brian out of fear of his knowing gaze. 

As everyone finished up breakfast, the mood light and jovial, spare the swirling guilt and fear on your mind that melted into panic when Tim stood up. It wasn't the action of standing with an empty plate in his hands that alarmed you, it was the fact that he didn't respond to any questions. While you were freaking out, thinking The Operator was taking control over him to put a sudden stop to your plan in the form of tormenting Tim so badly that you'd be willing to give up, Brian told your quietly panicked form that it was okay. Reassurance he didn't know hit you so deeply, a comforting hand on your shoulder. Talking about Tim's momentary mental absence, a petit mal seizure, and not your impending secret and mildly suicidal mission.

Brian staying coolly calm, "I'm going to go get Goober's leash," Before Tim had ceased all movement, Brian suggested the idea of going on a walk together, all of you, "Toby, take Tim to his chair." Though there was a worried edge to Brian's words, there was a practiced evenness, this had happened before. So much so that it wasn't a big deal. Even Toby, who had a full blown meltdown at the sight of Tim having a grand mal seizure, didn't start losing his shit. Tim quickly regained himself, looking around mildly confused as Toby put an unnecessary arm around his shoulders. 

"It's alright kid, I can walk on my own." Tim grunted, relaxing into the younger and taller man despite his words. Even the strongest of leaders needed to rely on those they protected sometimes. 

"I'm huh-helping you, old mmmuh-man." Though he didn't break down sobbing, his tics got worse, harsh jerking accompanied by grunts, worry apparent in his voice. "That's fuh-fuh-final." 

You were left just standing there, useless. Well, in the moment of Tim's extremely mild seizure, Brian had lightly informed you of it while you stared at Tim, terrified when he didn't respond. Brian, the nurse of the house directing the situation. Toby following out directions perfectly, ushering Tim out of the kitchen and into the living room. You were alone in the kitchen. 

The perfect window of opportunity to leave and put your plan in action. Head out first, let them come running of their own volition when they noticed your obvious absence. Come for you, wanting to spend some quality time together, wanting to make sure you're okay, wanting to see you alive and happy. Then it'd see. You had more power over them than it did, your delusions of grandeur told you. 

It was assumed that maybe you'd clean up the kitchen or follow Toby into the living room, make sure that Tim was alright. They couldn't be there at first, you told yourself, they'd shut you up, stop you by any means. But if things were already said and done that could not be taken back, they couldn't stop it, the events you'd set into motion. Then they'd back you up, they told you themselves they wanted out, hoped for freedom, wishing for the balls to escape. You'd give them the chance, pull them out of the murky depths, ablaze and drying their sopping bodies. Setting them on fire with your fighting spirit.

Just rip the band-aid off. Set the wheels of change in motion. Go, get, shoo. 

Eyes closed, taking in a deep inhale through your nose, smelling the dissipating scent of ground coffee with a tinge of sweet vanilla. Ears taking in the soft question of, "You cuh-comfortable?" 

A grumbled response of, "Yeah, just gimme a minute and we'll get going." Soft shuffling, paws on carpet and exaggerated sniffling, "What are you doin' mutt?" A soft laugh accompanied by shifting, Goober most definitely putting his front paws on the armchair that Tim called his own. The empath of an animal checking in on him, maybe looking to lick his face. Tim never hid his smiles when Goober approached him for head pats, throwing his weight on his lap in a forced cuddle that Tim took gratefully.

"Do you wah-want me to get him off?" Toby asked, Goober could get excitable, be a bit too much sometimes. Toby and Goober had never been the closest but it wasn't like they hated each other. Animals were never Toby's forte, not understanding how dog feelings work. Yet not being annoyed when Goober rubbed himself affectionately against Toby's leg on the occasion. Toby always being confused why the dog liked him when he usually paid him no mind but smiling at the affection nonetheless, returning it with a tousle of his pointy ears.

"Nah, I'm good like this." More quietly warm laughter, soft rustling that indicated that Goober was getting a good pet.

You didn't hear Brian, typical. Hearing Brian coming was a Herculean task that you were sure couldn't be fucking done unless he wanted you to hear him coming. Yet you could perfectly envision his grin at Goober's concern, Tim and Toby's soft smiles. Loving, familial, together.

Eyes snapping open, you kept the thoughts of loving domesticity in mind as you turned on your heel. This was for them. Padding over to the door, hand hovering over the doorknob. Selfishly wanting to stay a few moments longer and drink in the peaceful bliss but you had to get going. Window closing with every second ticking by. You knew that you were scared of failure, that's why you stood so still, frozen in place. 

It was the heat that melted you, thinking to Tim's poem when you wrapped you fingers around the doorknob. Inner fire melting the sudden wave of ice, goosebumps vanishing and cold chills turning to a sweaty heat. 

You opened the door to your future.

"(Y/n)?" A voice softly called after you as the door squealed shut behind you. You didn't wait for them to come running, you had to go, somewhere, anywhere, now. They may just think you're heading out early, stressed from Tim's mini seizure, needing a breather. But you knew they'd catch on quick, you had to run.

Feet pounding, bare against the grass and dirt, cool morning dew gracing your feet. You granted yourself one last look at the dark wooden cabin, shabby, surrounded by overgrown weeds. Red cans of gasoline idly sitting beside the stolen Baker family mini-van, tank fully fueled and ready to roll. 

You ran past it, past the imaginary ghosts of the Bakers. You wondered what Dan would think, after everything he'd done, fucking you over and ruining multiple lives, if he'd be proud of you for not being the same coward that he was. The abrasive man who tried to make things right in his time of dying. Perhaps giving you a nod and a weak smile, breaking the cycle that he couldn't stop, so instead he made it worse and dragged people in with him. You, once the weakling coward, growing into the person he always wanted to be, looking to finish what he started.

Jen, you wondered if she sighed and shook her head. Disagreeing with your attempt to play God. You knew she'd agree with the boys, stay and rot away in fermenting humanity. But be decaying together. Together, something you and her could never be. Dying moments desperately grasping for a false 'I love you', just wanting comfort and solace, even if it was lie. You cruelly deprived her of that but it wasn't it better to die knowing the truth? Have closure even if it's painful. If she was running side by side with you like she had at the cabin, tearing down the gravelly driveway as your boys hollered sadistically at you, would she be willing to do it all again? Put herself in a bad situation, one where she could perish horribly. Do something good for another person, put her life on the line with you? Contradicting feelings had you unsure of where her ghost would stand, by the house, willing to rot, or running by your side once more. Huffing out explanations, laughing at beating the odds, company in your stupid plan. Rolling with your bullshit donning a grin.

It was the river, the one Tim claimed to be at yesterday. The one you sat at while questioning your existence. You slowed, unsure if the boys were hot on your trail. You heard no calls for your name, no desperate running, just the soft babbling of the brook. Blinking, you idly decided to cross the shallow river that gradually lead into a rushing blackness only a couple hundred feet away. The cold wetness rushing around your bare feet, cleansing them of caked dirt. Crossing the threshold, emerging on the other side of the bank clean, in one piece.

They'd find you soon, it was time to get this shit show on the road. Get the worst business meeting of all time going. You hoped that this would be a smooth deal, one where you had to trade nothing. Swindle, rob. Maybe **he'd** live up to his dress, being willing to talk things over instead of having you eat more living flesh. **He** never spoke, you honestly didn't think **he** had the capacity to. It'd just be you jabbering, shaking a fist at a wannabe god. A false Shepard that did not idolize itself, letting those it controlled think of it what they wanted. The thought of other proxies out there, thinking it to be a savior made you sick, it was nothing but a predator. You'd show it, maybe, you'd leave it's shitty employment plan. You couldn't be tamed, controlled, you were giving **him** your pink slip before you were even hired and **he** was going to fucking take it. 

There wasn't really a planned resignation speech that you had in mind, you tried to formulate one but nothing fit right, your brain whizzing at a million miles an hour. Even if you had a slight plan, like every other rash decision in your life, you were going to wing it.

" _Hey, Operator! I've got a fucking bone to pick with you!"_

Screaming into the forests ambiance, the babbling brook a pleasant white noise. One that slowly faded into nothingness, the sounds of the natural world falling away while you waited for The Operator to pick up your call. Connect with you and have an unpleasant chat.

You wanted this to be over faster, yet you didn't want to insight immediate punishment, " _Come on! Mister Operator, just wanna talk to ya!"_ The weight of the gun heavy in your waistband, hubris and sins that seemed to crawl down your back, rooting you in place. Keeping you still while the buzzing started under your fingernails. Knees wanting to give, teeth wanting to chatter, a small part of you, just a little voice in the back of your head, telling you to shut up. The ghost of your high school self, scared and willing to do anything to survive. Even if that means doing things you'd never wanted to. Old morality telling you that you deserved a life sentence of misery, bad people deserve nothing but to suffer. Yet you were one of those bad people, the scum of the earth, selfish and disregarding the ideals you once had.

Sometimes bad people deserve a fucking break.

You didn't listen to her as she told you to give up and give in as _it_ stood across the river. Ethereally terrifying, towering so tall that its head looked to be the size of a pin from your viewpoint. She was what **he** held onto. The girl that first caught **his** eyeless sockets, unseeing gaze. The coward, the wannabe normal and good person, unaware of the metaphorical balls of steel that you now wore with pride. Sure, it had a hold on the current you too, but the you that transformed under **him** was a mistake. You didn't know for sure, but you'd bet any money that you weren't supposed to turn out like this. You went the wrong way a long time ago, supposed to keep on treading the pothole littered path but you went off the trail, dick swinging and screaming.

You knew nothing for sure about it. If your ideas of your change were true: if it really thought you to be some sort of challenge, if it really did change up tactics to make you give in, Brian said it was a germ after all. Unthinking, just wanting, doing bad shit and if something didn't go its way, it adapted. As a human you wanted to apply human characteristics to it, a personality, a mind to process. It was certainly in the shape of a human, a white and black mockery of white flesh and fabric. 

All you had were angry words, cold steel, and the pleasant breeze. A heavy hot weight rolling itself down on the inside of your nostrils while you looked up to the stretched skin of it's head. Standing with quaking flesh while your clenched your fists and grit your teeth, brow stern and jaw locked as you concentrated on keeping yourself upright in it's presence. It hurt. Like **he** dumped a nest of angry bees inside of your body, a deafening buzz with sharp pinpricks impaling soft tissue.

You were still standing, despite your body wanting to kneel, crumple, you were still on your feet. The pebbles of the riverbank sinking into the soles of your feet, the light jabbing pain different from the staticky sickness that **he** inflicted, grounding you. Taking in air felt like swallowing molten rock, yet you kept on, a heavy hotness pooling in the corners of your eyes. You didn't have to scream, it could already know what words were going to be violently word vomited at it, yet you did anyway. It felt good, a catharsis you would not allow punishment for. 

" _Nobody fucking likes you!"_ You couldn't help but insult it, peaceful conversation, smoothing over a deal wasn't an option in your head anymore. Seeing it, **him** , before you filled your veins with a hot hatred, you wouldn't be polite, you wouldn't say please, you'd demand, you'd get what you wanted because you said so. Standing in its presence still, not letting its hold overwhelm you, if you could do it then so could they. " _None of us want your stupid ass around! You fucking suck! You can't even make me kneel, me!"_ You chided, refusing to call yourself weak or stupid, proclaiming 'me' with angry pride, " _Despite all your bullshit I'm still here, I'm still standing, they're on my side, ya'know? They don't want to listen to your fucking bullshit anymore! They're not going to take it! I can do it and I've been exposed to your ugly ass for hardly any time at all. Don't you get it? We're done with you! You're whack as fuck, weak as shit, your mind control doesn't work on me anymore motherfucker!"_

It felt true as the words passed your lips. For once, being able to hear something human through the static, your own thoughts semi-coherent and verbalized. You were stronger than it. If you could do it then so could they. Didn't it see? This was over. They agreed with you. They wanted this, out, freedom, escape. They loved you, they didn't want you to go where they could not follow. They'd follow you through the gates of hell as you dragged yourself out. They'd fight it too, they had to. You weren't giving them the choice to pussy out. The note of finality in your voice, in your words, cutting through the static as they ripped themselves from your throat. Setting events into motion that was an ultimatum. Stand and fight with you, take you by your shaking hand or succumb to the vibrations like they always had. Letting themselves rot in the vicious cycle, you were giving them a chance to escape. You not willing to leave them behind even if they did kneel, you'd rather die. The attachment they had to you clear, spoken through word and told through action. They wouldn't let it happen, they wouldn't let you die. They'd come any second, stand even through the uncertainty that was change. 

Speaking on their behalf, deciding that you were the judge, jury, and executioner. Pulling the gun from your pocket, part of you wanting the comfort of self defense against a god-like being. Hand shaking, bones rattling under layers of tissue, every bend of your joints was a throbbing agony. The tears that slipped down your cheeks feeling like they were scalding you as they oozed down your face.

_"Fuck off!"_ It'd be nice if **he** did. Peacefully releasing you, knowing when to cut its losses like a true businessman. That'd be too good to be true, unsatisfying for you even if it'd be safe. You were a known adrenaline junkie, loving the rush. The same rush that **he** guided you into, now you were turning it right around on **him**.The blood pumping angrily through your veins fueled you to point to gun at the pin sized head across the river. The rush had you sweating, the hot wetness on your skin further grounding you with a sensation that you forced yourself to feel. Something other than static and the rocks piercing into your bare feet. Cheeks twitching, a pained growl rolling past your tongue as you forced the sound out. Making yourself smile as your shaky thumb turned the safety off, just like Brian taught you. 

Everything would be normal. Everything would be fine. You'd get away from the thing with nothing on its mind.

_**B A N G !**_

You had a feeling that nothing would happen, though you hoped for a bloody result of its head snapping back, its towering form falling back and landing into the dirt with a deafening crash. You didn't always get what you wanted. The second it made contact with the mockery of white skin that was stretched over its head, it was gone. Not invisibly traveling through its inhuman skull, exiting without a wound and burying itself into one of the many trees behind it. Not tearing through its disgusting body, simply disappearing. 

Disappointing but you weren't too surprised. It stood still, doing nothing, stagnant and pitiful. You hoped it could feel, think, process that the bullet was an act of disrespect. You hoped it wished it could cry, knowing that its reign over you and your boys was over. Being bested when it once could throw you around like a meaty rag doll, a puppet to be mastered. It could make a grown woman eat her best friend alive, terrorize, and force its proxies to hunt down but that's where it went wrong. _You fucked it's proxies._ They were your bitches now. They cared more about you, positive thoughts overwhelming and thinking of domesticity with you. The future where they didn't have to kill, where everything was okay-ish.

Stupidly flowery thoughts on your mind, you fought the buzzing under your skin that tried to hold it stiff. Time, patience, understanding, good dick, humility, grown bonds, you had it all now. Things were different from the last time it tried to stop you. You cemented yourself into place despite the painful need to kneel, their desire to escape was a weight you took upon your shoulders all on your own. Standing firm with the weight and pain, this was your shot to show it who the fuck it was dealing with. It picked the wrong bitch. 

_**B A N G !**_

Cold. Unknown. Weightless. 

Spinning, being forced down and backward. Icey sharpness having you gasp at the new found sensation. From air feeling molten, the rushing water felt like inhaling the embodiment of a blizzard. Forcing its way into your mouth, some of it being involuntarily sucked into your lungs with your gasp. Hands unable to slap over your mouth to help seal it off as you confusedly yet violently floated in an inky blankness. 

You knew what was happening, punishment. You told yourself this wouldn't happen yet here you were, completely submerged. Put in your place. Alone. Cold wetness dragging you down, body being forced to take it, the heavy weight ripping from your open palm. Through the cold there was the pinpricks, the shake, **he** was puppeteering you again. Making a show of power, having enough of your arrogance, or maybe it wasn't as vengeful. Just seeing a variable that wasn't where it should be, mindlessly correcting the glitch in the system that was your life. 

All you could do was hold your breath and try to think. Screeching static in your ears, yet you could still hear the muffled sound of water encompassing your ears. You could feel the coldness of the water around your form. Grounding, something other than the feeling of his influence. Miserable and in agony, you had a single coherent thought.

**No.**

Eyes stinging from the water that invaded your open lids, lungs rattling with the bit of cold water that had been forced into them, taking in the musty air as your vision blurred. You moved in a quick and precise manner, breaking the black surface tension while your muscles screamed, stiff and moving robotically. It just happened, the sudden break, that's all you could describe the feeling as. Something within you, just under the skin being stretched to its limits before snapping. Breaking though the static, water providing a cold clarity. 

Limbs weakly flailing under the water, spinning as you tried to regain directional control as the water pushed you downstream. What was the plan? Not just for how you'd get out of the water, what in the ever loving fuck were you thinking? Talking at what could basically be a germ was senseless. Then again, you remembered, talking wasn't the whole point, it was forcing an ultimatum in which the boys would stand with you. Maybe they'd feel it, the stretching and snapping. The clarity. 

**He** was right there. By the bank of the river, standing still in a different place. The giant motherfucker forcing you hundreds of feet away from your initial showdown spot and into the water. Breaking free of the paralyzing static wasn't supposed to happen, you should be drowning.

It hit you like a tidal wave, the buzz under your flesh that rattled your eyes in their sockets. The dank air surrounding your head was gone as you were suddenly back under. You couldn't tell which was up and down, the water murky and your vision blurring and distorting. The pain was back, this time with an overwhelming throb of heat. Movement restricted, arms held out at your sides and legs straight and flush together. Head hung low, eyes forced open, feeling the sting of water touching your irises.

It really was mindless wasn't it? Just doing, not thinking things out thoroughly like a human could. If it could think, it would have figured out that the coldness forced onto your eyeballs was sickeningly grounding. While it held you paralyzed beneath the surface, the newfound heat blocking out the cold on your skin, it decided to leave your eyes open. A detail missed, not covered by the molten flesh. Cold and stinging. Keeping your thoughts going, even though they were repetitive thoughts of agony.

_Stop, stop, stop, stop, stop, stop._

It was directed at the pain, at the intake forced onto you through your nostrils. Water invading your lungs, a different kind of pain. An inner pressure that rattled and clawed at your insides. Burning like hot lava, a different heat, your body screaming in agony. There was more to the world then the feeling of paralysis. There was the stinging in your eyes, the unwelcomed water hurting like absolute hell. Thoughts of pain turning to the idea of death, you were too young to die, this was a shitty way to go, you had people to look after.

People. Boys. Tim. Brian. Toby.

Above again, limps snapping into action with the very thought of their faces. Everything they'd been through, the sheer living hell that was being a proxy. You started this for your sake and theirs, you wouldn't let yourself get drowned by some twink. You wouldn't leave them high and dry, you wouldn't let the window of opportunity that was you close, you wouldn't die.

Spluttering coughs, desperate gasps that burned your throat, gagging and gargling out a mouthful of water. **He** was still there, even though you'd been continuously carried down stream. Unmoving still, yet in a different place. The water around you had began to calm, no longer viciously spinning you or forcefully sapping your strength as you struggled to keep yourself afloat. Rapids turning to calmer waters. The tension beneath the surface of your skin had snapped once more, clarity.

It burned to speak, yet you did anyway. Letting out a raspy _, "FUCK YOU!"_

Under. The buzz back, it was growing old yet it still hurt like a motherfucker. Weak. Muscles tired from the constant on and off of being controlled, surprising yourself by being actually able to stiffly move after you tore the control away. You were so tired. Fingers twitching as you snarled, able to hold your breath, the static was weaker now. You could beat it, break free just maybe. If only you weren't so exhausted. If only you had someone to help, if only you got more energizing air. If only, if only, if only.

Muffled by the thick layers of abyssal water, quiet and distant, _"(Y/N)!"_

Tim?

They were coming, if only you could break through the surface and wave them over. Have them drag you out of the depths, fight the static with you, stand shaky with intertwined hands.

**No.**

They might not make it. You needed their help like they needed yours, a symbiosis that had your heart soaring, they would make it. You would all make it, you would sure of it.

A sudden burst of energy tore through your muscles as the stretching and snapping played through your body once more. Free from the statics hold, but still weak. Every movement an agonizingly slow thrash, purposefully clawing your way to what you hoped and believed to be up. Move, move, move.

Rising. Breaking through the surface tension, sloppily throwing yourself forward. Water in your ears somewhat deafening out the distinct call of Tim's voice, _"(Y/N)!"_

You'd turn to him once you were at the bank, opposite side of germ boy. Dragging yourself through the rock filled mud, slick and cold, gasping desperately for air. Legs kicking while crawling forth on your forearms. Taking the time and effort to shut the fuck up while you hacked up gobs of blood and river water. Muscles heavy, mud feeling weighty, the little lighter in the buttoned up pocket feeling like it weighted ten pounds. Yet you kept on moving, coughing and gasping. You had to get your shit together, get back on your feet and face your boys.

You wanted to stay on your hands and knees, give yourself time to collect yourself but you didn't. You refused to be caught dead kneeling even involuntarily before The Operator. Cold, stiff, weak, yet slowly moving nonetheless. Growling in pain as you rose, a mess of flesh and mud. Turning, facing **him** , facing the four figures sprinting toward you from behind **his** massive frame.

Not disappearing as they slowed, skidding to a stop fearfully behind the tall black mass of its legs. You felt great and horrible, they were here for you, not for **him**. It had to be. 

Smiling shakily, you may have been physically exhausted but dopamine was rushing through your system. There was no static in your ears, no quaking of blood and bone, no strings attached to you anymore.

You weren't a puppet anymore. 

" _See?!"_ You hysterically cackled as the boys stood behind your worst enemy, the boys and your beloved dog. " _The gangs all here, bitch! Here for me!"_ Cocky, on top of the world, smiling ear to ear, the only sound you could hear was your heart pounding with the rush. They came looking for you in your unexplained disappearance because they cared. Bringing along Goober so that when they did, you could all go on a nice walk like Brian had initially planned. They planned on doing things with you, for you, you, you, you.

**He** wasn't jackshit compared to you. Your influence better, leaving them with butterflies and softly kissed lips. They had to take your side on this, you beat the odds, fighting and winning all while it tried to drown you. Overwhelming blackness and agony, if you could do it so could they. You'd be an inspiration, you'd led them to the ark, a bridge into a new life, all they had to do was cross its broken and crumbling path. 

They were all shaking, trembling. Toby was the worst of all, gasping and grunting as his arms jerked, stiffening with rolls of his shoulders. Head in perpetual motion, fingers flexing at odd angles. Grimacing while wet tears shone in the soft morning light, snot dribbling from his nostrils as he hitched his breath, knees shaking. Tim was in a bad way too, shuddering breaths and knit brows. Wet cheeks, tight fists at his sides, violently shaking. Brian seemed outwardly the most together, though there were still a noticeable quake. Despite how hard he tried he couldn't stop trembling. Expressionless as he stared at you. 

Goober was in the best state of all of them. Ears down, letting out a whine at the sudden stop, the distress of his walker, Brian, having his tail between his legs. Black and brown face whipping to you with a, "Boof!" Ears perking up but tail still lodged between his legs. He was scared too, though he understood none of the context to the events unfolding before him.

" _WHAT DID YOU FUCKIN' DO?!"_ Tim demanded, standing still beside his quake. Voice booming yet cracking under the pressure.

"I think I just," Your hands were shaking but not because of the static, it was due to the sheer joy and adrenaline of the unseen weight lifted off your chest, "Broke free." Smiling shakily, joyful yet **he** stood across the river, _your_ boys behind **him**. Four sets of eyes staring into you, quivering. One fist opening with your words, mouth falling agape and eyes wide. A quiet ' _thump'_ as Goober's leash hit the ground. Despite the terror that the being of many unknowns still posed while being before you, you couldn't help but laugh, it was going to be over soon, they just had to follow by example, take your hand and get out of here. "I think it can't c-"

 _"WIPE THAT STUPID SMILE OFF YOUR FACE!"_ Tim's voice boomed through the forest, the loudest you'd ever heard it. Louder then the angry roar you heard at the cabin when you stabbed him in the leg, getting promptly called a whore. There was rage there but more so, mortified concern. The volume coming from raw emotion.

He could hear you! Wasn't that good? Didn't that mean that he was also breaking from the unseen confined that were the puppet strings? Sure, he was upset and scared but this was a happy day. The day you'd all walk away into the sunset, maybe slightly blood soaked but blood soaked and free.  
As the leader of the proxies or as your partner, you could not tell who he was acting as, not falling into an emotional persona. Maybe this was just him, raw and naked. You couldn't stop smiling. Even though he told you to stop, even though you should not be smiling in the presence of a false, fucking weak, pathetic, undeserving wannabe god that you were better than. You just kept on smiling. 

You had beaten it. You were something grander, powerful. You felt like not even the real god could hide from you. Nothing can last forever, life, **his** power; nothing is sacred. 

Goober was whipping his little head about, padding forward away from the boys, unsure. Scared. 

"Tim," You spoke in a laugh, "Don't you get it? _I'm free."_

You expected him to be happy for you, demand to know how you did it, ask for your help. Yet nothing could break your stride, even his fear, even his years of experience with how The Operator went about things. To you, experience didn't matter, if it really was as _painfully stupid_ as you believed it to be, a germ, a human shaped bug, _a parasite._ Then it'd make mistakes like it just had, the lot of you could keep going to with break outs. Not let it adapt and rebuild its system, locking them inside forever with the window of opportunity shut. 

Toby was wheezing loudly beside Tim, bent forward in on himself, hands tightly clutching his messy curls, babbling, " _Sss-stop, stuh-stop, sssss-stop, stuh-stuuh-stop."_

Goober padded away from the boys, his leash slipping between Brian's shaking fingers, the man a statue staring emotionlessly at you. There's a belief, that dogs have an innate sense for the supernatrual. Warning or going to protect owners from it. Seeing things, hearing things, knowing things that humans did not. He started a quick gait toward the calm black waters as Toby started raggedly screeching. 

Desperate wails in the presence of The Operator. It broke your heart, how he was so horribly affected by the stick figure just _standing there._ Yet he was still standing, Brian was still standing. Wasn't that good? Didn't that mean they weren't so overwhelmed that they could move, not be face first on the floor? Nothing was wrong, this was all good.

_"(Y/N)!"_ Tim demanded your attention. You blinked, finally he'd answer your somewhat rhetorical question. No answer came, he was calling you by your name, thinking of a barked command, a chiding insult, nothing else. He was just at a loss for words despite, _"(Y/N)!"_ Screamed out angrily, tears sliding down his cheeks while his fists quaked.

Goober was in the water now. You didn't know what prompted him to dive into the depths, quickly resurfacing and cutely doggy paddling across the river. Not looking like he was going to such an extent to get a good pet, brow eyes blown out in fear, confusion.

" _I sss-suh-swear!"_ Toby heaved, quiet compared to Tim's angry barks of your name, gasping out breaths and hitched cries, " _I know! I know! I knuh-know sssh-she's sstuh-stupid Lyra! But sttuh-stop!"_ Toby repeated the word over and over, stumbling, slurring, ' _stop'._ " _-Telling me that sshuh-she is guh-going to duh-duh-die!"_ Shakily raising his head, face wet and red, looking in your direction but not at you, not at the tall man before him, not at Tim, not at Brian. " _Don't luh-look at muh-me like that! I- I- SH-SHUT UP! SSHH-SHUT THE FUCK UP! SSS-SHE'S NOT GUH-GOING TO! SH-SHE TOLD ME SSSH-SHE WOULDN'T!"_

Now you stopped smiling, the joyful expression melting into an angry snarl. This was **his** fault. **His** presence was setting the poor boy off. Overwhelmed or perhaps an episode brought on by the man himself. They could only yell for the moment, you had to ground them like you did yourself, lend a helping hand.

" _Hey! Guys! Listen to me!"_ You called out, speaking as clearly as you could. A vocal beacon that you hoped they'd follow the metaphorical light of. Goober was pulling himself up from the riverbed now, wet paws getting caked in dark mud. Not bothering to shake away the heavily uncomfortable chilled water that clung to his fur. Whining as his claws slid through the mud, sloppily making his way over to you, quivering from the cold. (F/c) leash lazily dragging behind him, with no one to guide him, he came to you. Through cold waters, away from his trusted and beloved Brian. Bravely passing by the tall unknown figure, all to get to you. The only one who'd crossed the threshold to get to you, to stand with you.

Your words reached their ears, or so you thought, all three of them suddenly straightening up. Standing at their full heights, feet together and hands at their site. Eerily uniform. Yet their faces could still emote even as they shifted so unnaturally. Toby let out what sounded like a broken dog whistle-esque screech, mouth stretched fully open, eyes wide. He didn't move other than that, standing and screaming. Pained gaze finally on you, lips curling back into his mouth as he sniffled and whined. Messes of vowels and constants tripping over his tongue, unable to form coherent words. 

Tim didn't look to be in a much better state. Shuddering breaths, cheeks the most slicked with tears then you'd ever seen, unabashedly feeling. Heart completely on his sleeve.

As his lip quivered he called out, ignoring your words, "(Y/n)." Soft, pitiful. Desperate. Another call of your name. Apprehension began to shoot through your veins.

You didn't know what to say, heavy doubt in your gut, fear coming back from the depths of your mind. Breaking through your momentary power trip, holding you firm with spindly fingers.

Brian's lips agape but other than that, his face was blank. You knew there wasn't just nothing on his mind. He was processing, albeit in a way that you couldn't understand his astute thoughts. It slid a sense of unease into you, **him** still being here, them standing so still, their faces, Goober's sudden crossing of the river, it added up to a result that you were starting to think that you didn't want to see. An outcome that didn't lead to your boys breaking free.

"(Y/n)?" Brian called as his hazel eyes slid to you, a terrified tremor in his voice behind thinly veiled apathy.

You had to say something, ground yourself in your wishful reality. The one where you rode off into the sunset, the one where you throw rocks at The Operator, uncontrollable and happy. This was good, you told yourself, this was him communicating with you through The Operators control.

Gulping, you felt a single word leave your lips, "Yeah?"

_"You've been rejected."_

 _Fear._ Dread. Rancor. Confusion. Discordance. Thanatophobia. Your thoughts raced and you felt a wave of emotions you couldn't differentiate hit you, your breath catching.

All you had to say in your mixed shock was, _"Oh fuck."_

No. None of it was good. They were not listening, able to speak, able to stand, because they were strong. It was't them tearing away the unseen strings, it was them being puppeteered. The tall motherfucker leaving them momentarily lucid. They weren't following by example, they were still trapped.

They were proxies and you were the target.

"(Y/n)?" Not a call just to roll your name desperately off Tim's tongue, a question.

"Yeah?" A hollow response as the edges of your vision seemed to momentarily blacken. You doing your best to stay conscious, awake, able to keep on living, fighting. Your body felt so much heavier, weaker, exhaustion pulsing through your body. Yet there was a sense of clarity, not crystal clear thought but a feeling of cleanliness. Like long dried grime has been power washed away, connection with **him** severed. No more tormenting static, no more pinpricks, no more buzzing behind your eyelids. 

You were free but you knew how this went. Dan, Isaac, the others, rejected candidates, they all had something in common. Dead.

Tim let out a dreadful croak, just barley heard with his weak voice a wavering smile on his lips. Weighty, sincere, full of regret but vulnerable, _"I love you."_

Finality. 

You both knew where this was going. You'd been so stupidly stubborn for so long, insisting you'd be okay but here you were, fucked with a capital F. You led yourself here, right to death's door. Your choices. You did this. _You._

 _No._ It was **him.**

All of this was **his** fault. Every death, spilled drop of blood, filthy personal transformation. Yet you couldn't deny that you fought **him** every step of the way. You contributed to this, your rejection, their tears. You weren't fit to make your own choices. Who were you kidding? Going up against something like that? Trying to be a hero when you were nothing but an adrenaline junkie scumbag. 

Listen. You were going to listen to the words you should have taken to heart a long time ago. There was no time to stand still, you had to act. Do what you knew they wanted you to. Run. 

Blindly reaching down, the wet nylon weighty in your hand. Goober was innocent, you'd make good of your pitiful life and do something right. Get him out of here too. You knew how The Operator made those under its control rather hungry.

You didn't know if it'd give you anymore time. You didn't want to test it, no more gambles. Just smart, rational decisions. Coldy calculated and cowardly. There was no time to say it back.

That didn't stop you from thinking it while you spun on your heel, turning tail to run.

_'I love you too.'_


	54. 53 - Firebrand

Your bare feet slapped wetly onto dewy leafs, dodging around shrubbery, thin and gangly trees. Terrifyingly deceiving, making you do double take after double take. Lungs burning, eyes stinging, muscles heavy, the side affects of freedom. But you had to go, to run away from anyone that understood and loved you, everything you'd gone through together. Revert through years of forced mental growth at Dan's fists, their twisted smiles, the blood under your fingernails, **his** influence. Become the person you once were before crushing Isaac's skull in. Before Dan grew so abrasive through his paranoia, the person willing to run, to hide, to cower. Yet you could not pull out the root of your problems from your being, you'd always had it. Using it to your advantage, getting yourself into mess after mess but at least able to keep up a smile. Your big fucking mouth.

Torture.

That's what it was, what you were putting yourself though, the jester, the clown, the fool. Where were you supposed to go? The woods around you were growing familiar, paths that you'd tread before walking Goober. Leisurely, calm, slow, now paralleled by fearful running. This time you had no destination, aimlessly moving forward. Anywhere but toward the people you claimed to care so much for.

Why did you do this? Set yourself up for failure. Didn't you get it by now? Everything you'd tried against **him** didn't work. You'd thrown all your cards on the table in one last desperate move, half baked and currently backfiring. 

You were going to die. You and your dog. Maybe he'd go out like that raccoon, held in an iron grip while molars and incisors tore skin and tendons. Maybe you would too or maybe your face would be set alight. Feeling your skin sear and bubble away. Perhaps they'd drag you into the mini-van, only to throw you off the back of it, going sixty-five. Watching you tumble violently away, bones shattering and skin being ripped off against the fast passing ground. If that didn't kill you, they just might slam the car keys into your throat, twisting them in your flesh like a gargling lock.

Though death seemed certain, you were hesitant to attempt to navigate your way out of the woods. If you even could make it out of the mess of intertwined bark and overhanging leafs. You'd done so much damage to the forests inhabitants already, you should go, you didn't deserve to be here. This is what they wanted, Brian said it himself that if you had the chance to escape without him that he wanted you to take it.

Why didn't you just go already? 

You broke free of **his** grasp _. Rejected_ only because **he** didn't know what else to do with you. You had to use to him if you couldn't be controlled. There was the wondering thought, would you be brought back from the dead after you inevitably died? Maybe then you'd be able to be puppeted. That's what happened to Brian. The forced resurrection did not completely change him as a person. Though it was disturbing, violating, rattling his convictions, he was still the same person deep down. The person who wanted to get out so badly, he just didn't know what he'd be without The Operators influence. 

But you were different people. Even back then, high school, you opened your mouth, took punches to the face like a fucking champ. Slowly learning to stand up for yourself. This was temporary, a lapse. A breakdown. You'd recover from this, shift back into who you were, even if you were killed and brought back to life you would never stop fighting. The wild card, the loose cannon, uncontrollable. That meant one thing. That this could only end in your permanent death. There'd be no resurrection. Rejection already solidified the idea of it in your head but the momentary consideration of the idea of being brought back from the dead had you remembering who you were. 

A bitch with a nasty bite. 

You couldn't run for long, they'd find you, kill you. There was no point in running. You'd done everything right, no regrets. Fucked up, fell in love, broke free. You set this into motion, you were going to finish what you started. The boys wanted you to run for your life, never looking back, but that wasn't who you were. You were a fighter, and you were going to fight for those who ruined your life, broke you down only to build you back up, corrupted and evil as hell. 

You'd made your bed, death incoming, and you were going to lie in it. Not without raising some hell first, going out in a blaze of glory. Rocking the fucking boat obnoxiously, cause waves that would hopefully rattle the boys conviction in your wake. Maybe you could do something good for once: your death and final actions, the fact that you broke free and didn't stop fighting until you took your last breath. Even if you wouldn't be there to see it, you smiled bitterly at the idea of them getting out, them being inspired by your vigor. You didn't plan on dying, the thought terrified you, but you knew it was coming hard and fast, and you were trying to find comfort in it in any way you could. 

At least you'd perish knowing the damage you'd done to **him**. Freeing the boys that you set out to help with your foolish actions. Accomplishing something only after your death, a vicious act of spite and love in the face of the Operator.

The only one who could stand with and support you right now was him. Goober. Your four legged friend who skidded to a stop with you as you spun on your heels. Facing the direction of certain doom and incoming reckoning. Wet, cold, muddy, smiling at the animal that didn't understand the dire circumstances and stood with you anyway. An angry woman's best friend. 

Clammy palm tousling his sopping fur, shifting his ears and having his dark brown fur stick out every which way. "Come on Goob-boob, lets fuck shit up." Ragged confidence dripping from your tone, something he could somewhat understand. Dislodging itself from between his legs, his tail weakly swept back and forth. Big brown eyes full of a confused hope. 

There was not a single soul in sight. You hadn't heard the distinct heavy footfalls of Tim, the ' _click'_ of one of Brian's guns having its safety turned off, Toby's grunts that came with particularly aggressive tics. Natures ambiance had not returned, the forest eerily quiet beside your pounding feet and Goober's paws thundering against the dirt. Something was obviously wrong, you weren't safe anywhere. **He** was still around, somewhere, watching, waiting. Even if you couldn't see the skinny motherfucker, **his** presence was overwhelming.

**He** really was stupid. Maybe mindless after all. Letting a real homewrecker get so close to the cabin. Letting you come across the red carton, holding it in one hand while sloshing it about. Aware of the weight in your breast pocket, getting the wood wet with something that wouldn't stop a fire. Trees and shrubs wet with gasoline, the pungent smell penetrating your scrunched up nostrils. 

This might kill you both but fuck it, you were dead anyway.

It'd be a huge pain in the fucking ass for **him.** Searing tainted territory, haunted grounds. With the charred land would hopefully come change. You being a _literal_ trailblazer for your boys.

You'd gone inside. Getting one last good look while pouring gasoline on the floors. The piss colored liquid splashing against kitchen tile, soaking into the gray living room floor, wetting the scraps of papers on Brian's floor. Going in was terrifying, walking into a hornets nest that they could have been waiting in, but hey weren't anywhere to be seen. So you poured and poured, staining bed sheets, ruining artwork, getting books sopping wet in their shelves. 

You'd miss this place in some sort of weird fucked up way. This was the house where you transformed into what you feared, where they transformed into people they never wanted to be. Monsters. This was where you cried, fought, fucked, loved hard and fast. It had to go though, every thick piece of wood, every overgrown blade of grass, every bed in which you slept.

Looking back was something you forced yourself not to do. No regrets. Exiting the house, Goober letting out a whine at the strong scent that must have been horribly assaulting his keen senses. There was one more fat jug of gasoline sitting by the Baker family mini-van. Lying in wait to be used to your advantage. You envisioned the Baker siblings handing it to you as you wrapped your shaky fingers around its handle. With the fire would come the destruction of the vehicle, the last physical reminder you had of them. It was strangely sad, thinking of the car you'd spent so many rides in alight. Sitting next to lovers and losers through the years, echoing laughter and muffled fighting from the back seat and trunk.

Lifting the weight, standing up straight, you felt the weight of their ghosts roll off your shoulders. Atonement for the things you’d done, at least in their glazed over eyes. Fighting The Operator when Dan could not. Raising hell, doing something that you never thought you’d be doing for people who’d hurt you. Looking to set them free, life soon coming to an end. Just like Jen.

With your straightened back came the abyssal eyes. Black and staring into your soul, empty and unfeeling. Just like that night, your last with the Bakers, donning the mask, the tan jacket, the crowbar. Standing stiffly straight, unspeaking. You knew what he was going through. Staring down a loved one with the static controlling every little movement, wanting to scream desperately loving words. Controlled. Forced to kill.

You were looking at Tim and the meat puppet Masky. The man you loved and the submissive yet destructive force of rage that ruined you. A spark of bitter hate in your gut, love searing hot in your eyes. 

Contradictory in every way. 

Running, pouring gasoline in a winding line behind you. It was somehow standing your ground, being a fighter while sprinting away from the man that had lurched into action. Feet pounding on the ground in an overwhelming thunder. The sound filling you with a spike of adrenaline, fear, and dread for the man watching himself give chase from the confines of his mind. Somewhere in there was Tim, screaming and crying. You had no idea what he could be thinking, you just hoped he was down with your suicide mission. Last angry testament in action, you being ballsy even in the masked face of death.

Goober slightly dragging behind for a moment, yipping in surprise and confusion as his leash was pulled taut. Not understanding that Tim’s familiar scent of thick smoke didn’t mean loving tousles of his ears. Not understanding why you dragged him along by his leash, running away from a familiar friend. But he was your dog, he’d follow you, trust you to the ends of the earth. Blindly following, never able to comprehend your evils, indiscriminately loving.

Running from the cabin, around the mini-van, you randomly chose a direction, pouring gasoline the whole way. Sloshing the can as you passed by brambles and gnarly trees. The sound of pounding footfalls growing louder, he was catching up, closing in. 

**_THUD!_**

What the fuck was that? You forced yourself to keep looking ahead. Whatever it was slowed him down. Shuffling, scrambling playing behind you before the footfalls continued.

It hurt. Tim chasing you of a will that was not his own. His admission of love truly sinking in as you ran from him. He meant it and you felt the same. Time had run out and he knew it as the buzzing static traveled up his flesh. He knew you were going to die, so he had to let you know one last thing. The repressed idiot getting the final romantic word in, saying I love you first. And here you were, assuming you’d have to spell it out for him and wait weeks for him to say it back. Proven wrong in the best and worst way. 

Time was running out anyway. Even before your plan backfired, getting you rejected, time was ticking dangerously by. You felt it, the filth that you could not clean, a gut feeling at every hour of the day that something was off. It was only wild speculation but you believed that you were weeks away, maybe days, from your period of consideration ending. Through force or from drowning under the sea of love the boys gave to you, breaking down your will for a split second. Just enough time to be hired, be forced to live as a proxy. 

Though you believed you could get them out due to your own hubris, becoming a proxy could have led into a cynical downward spiral of deteriorating will. Your determination, inner fire, was an enigmatic marvel but you were still human, you could still fuck up and falter. Even if it didn’t crumble beneath your feet, the defeat of being accepted would have fucked your mental state enough to be controlled. Perhaps indefinitely, growing worse mentally while your body was moved for you like a Barbie doll. Unable to break free from your flesh prison.

_**THUD!** _

There it was again, the booming sound, followed by shuffling and the distinct snapping of twigs. Goober letting out barks at the sound, furry head turned to look at the commotion. Should you look back? Look at the man coming to kill you, the one you’d wronged so horribly, the one who loved you. Didn’t you tell yourself not to? No regrets, right?

You were going to die. The passing underbrush being some of the last imagery for you to see. You’d rather look at him, even with his mockery of a face plastered on his face. You’d contradict yourself, feel the regret and fully understand the mental damage you’d inflict on him with your death. At least try to give him some closure with your smiling face, give him encouragement for later so he could follow in your footsteps but come out alive. 

Getting fired as you called it, you didn’t know if it could happen to them. You didn’t know what would become of them if they could escape like you hoped. All you knew was that you were going to do it, look back, smile while hot tears angrily rolled down your face. Bitter and fearful.

Cheeks stinging from the hot waterworks, you forced them to shift with your toothy grin. Turning your head, running forward on a somewhat safe path to blindly run. All you had to do was not trip over your own feet and you’d probably be okay. 

Looking over your shoulder, you got a good look at him. Several feet behind you, arms swinging as he ran, feet making harsh impacts in the ground that kicked up chunks of dirt behind him. Moving in an odd zigzag, feinting toward the right then snapping back into a straight run. Quickly doing it again, practically lunging himself mask first into a tree.

**_THUD!_**

What the fuck? 

Recoiling, stumbling back, his masked face quickly snapped back in your direction. Body recovering quickly and making a thunderous beeline for you. Crowbar swinging in his fist as he came forth, you could practically envision it being slammed into your skull in graphic detail. You saw what the thing could do, exactly how a head caves in under a crowbar. Henry’s death gave you a front row seat to the morbid show. 

Said crowbar, the same one he threatened you that he was going to impale you on, came down with the swing of his arm. Instead of whooshing by his side, its blunt end was jammed into his knee. He slowed, stumbling forward as his leg buckled, feeling the pain through the static. Forcing movements through the sickening buzz. Fighting it. Fighting himself.

He wasn't just watching the end through a fixed gaze. His will was busting through the wall of static, moving in ways that **he** was trying not to permit. Following your lead, doing what you wanted for once, your words, advice, wishes. Putting himself in pain for you, trying to slow down the inevitable. Trying to break free. Either at the inspiring sight of you doing so or he was simply trying to play the hero while being forced to be your pursuer.

After everything you'd done: melting his face, stabbing his leg, being so charming that he fell in love for a second time after his wounded heart told him he never would again, topping him, ultimately betraying him in the name of freedom, he was fighting for you. He was hurting because of you, being forced to chase you with the knowledge that if his uncontrolled hands caught you, that you'd be dead meat. Yet you did this anyway, knowing the hell your death would put them though. All for a gamble that was rigged from the start.

The stumble didn't last long, another quick and snappy recovery. This time with a slight impeding limp. You couldn't wipe the stupid smile off your face like he'd asked you to, you kept giving him your sunny smile with a filthy face. Mud on your chin, slicked in a thin sheen of sweat, streaks of tears, hot blood oozing from your nostrils, over the curve of your lips and into your teeth. The metallic taste warm on your tongue. 

Arm on the upswing, it was brought to the side before being smacked forcibly onto his head.

_**CRACK!**_

The metal threw itself into the side of his mask, just at its edge. Shattering off thick pieces of white porcelain around the area of impact. Head snapping to the side with the force, revealing bloodied flesh to you. Skin forced open on impact, smaller bits of his false face buried themselves into his skin. 

Growling, finally making a sound that wasn't labored breathing. Forcing out a sound through the control, even if it was a pained one of effort. This didn't feel like giving him closure, this felt like helping him break free or at least momentarily free him enough to talk. Tell him what to do, keep moving in your wake. _"Come on Tim!"_

A gargled grunt in response as well as throwing himself to the side. Traveling though the air like a stiff rag doll before disappearing into a shrub. The very top of his head being forced against a tree next to the plant.

_**Fwsssh, THUD!**_

He lay there a moment as you slowed your run, stopping as the jug of gasoline was finally emptied. The lighter in your pocket weigh heavy as you let the empty plastic fall to the forest floor. Hastily working at the button, slightly difficult in you sweaty fingertips. Tim's legs beginning to shift, getting up. Be a fire starter, set the wheels for Tim's escape into motion. Hopefully having a domino affect on Toby and Brian. You did wish you could see them both one last time under better circumstances. Get to tell them that you loved them before Tim would be forced to beat your brains in.

Shirt pocket unbuttoned, Tim rose to his feet, body quaking. You refused to call him Masky even in your head. The stupid fucking code name was the sadistic persona that hurt you, that wasn't the real Tim. Though he'd embraced that side of himself, he still knew it was bad, he still felt empathy, forcing himself to shove his emotions into bottles. Masky was brought to him by The Operator, he would have never had to force himself into accepting murder as an everyday chore that he dreaded without that twink.

This was **his** fault. 

**He** wouldn't let Tim go so easily, **his** meat puppet Masky. You'd make sure Tim got out of here, maybe a little crispy, but out of its grasp nonetheless. No longer having to don the stupid fucking title. No longer have to wear the mask. 

Pulling the lighter from your pocket, he made a dead sprint for you. Boots pounding, letting out labored growls, coming for you. Popping the little plastic cap up, revealing the spark wheel. _Fwick._ No flame, you didn't do it right. He was getting closer. _Fwick._ Nothing. _Fwick, fwick,_ a small yellow flame rising before you. All you needed to do was put it to the gasoline. If only you had the time to do so.

_**THUD!**_

Gasping, eyes momentarily screwing shut as a harsh wave of pain exploded in your back. The wind violently knocked from your lungs, a heavy weight, a body laying atop yours. Weak and tired limbs feeling like they were glued to the dirt, exhaustion consuming you with the newest debuff that was literally no air in your lungs. 

The man's shoulder had buried itself in the soft flesh of your stomach. It was somewhat of a relief when it was finally removed from your gut, Tim groaning as his body was forced to shift atop you. As you sucked and gasped for air, dazed and pained, he rose, adjusting himself. Practically sitting on your upper thighs, slightly hunched over you. 

The lighter was out of your palm. Laying just barely out of reach, now unlit without you holding down the little trigger. You had to act, set the forest alight, talk to Tim, but both things were out of your grasp. No air in your lungs, the only sounds you could make were sputtering wheezes. Defending yourself felt out of the question, you knew your heavy limbs could hardly move at the moment. Even if you were given the needed few minutes to recover, he was still much stronger than you'd ever be. 

Fuck.

Slurred, a groan of the beginning of a coherent word, _"(Y-Y-Y)-"_ Speech falling into an a groan as the arm that held the crowbar shook, raising itself over his head. The shuffling of Goobers paw beside the two of you, confused barking.

You wanted to tell him that you loved him. That it was a dick move to kill you but you forgave him anyways, call yourself the next fucking Mother Teresa. Air was starting to agonizingly filter back into your lungs but not fast enough, you couldn't tell him all the things you wanted to.

Was this it? An unsatisfying ending. Not getting to be an arsonist one last time. Not getting to spell out heavy hitting phrases that would further rock the boat, the inkling of the idea that they'd get depressed as fuck in your wake instead of motivated. You didn't get to make a song with Tim. You didn't get to completely understand code with Brian. You didn't make a giant incomprehensible painting with Toby, some real abstract shit. You still had so much to do but your time was up. 

You weren't oddly at peace. This sucked fat cock. You didn't want to die, you wanted to set shit on fire, you wanted more time to love and do stupid shit. You were going to die dirty, winded, and unfulfilled. 

Another groan was heard over your rattling gasp, teeth gnashing while your tongue moved as if you were speaking but no vowels passed your lips. The crowbar raised above his head, coming down only an inch before it stopped. Deadly swing held in place by Tim's loving will. It didn't last long. Down it came once more, not shakily pausing again.

Just like you, he had lots of bark with one fuck of a bite.

A large muzzle in your view, black fur and yellow tinged fangs. Just like mama, clamping teeth around the wrist of a masked man. A growl in which you'd never heard from him ripping wildly out of his throat. He didn't understand the circumstances of the situation, but all he knew that was you were going to be hurt. Even if he loved Tim, confused as to why he was trying to hurt you, he pushed all that aside. Casting simplistic judgement that deemed you, his mama, more important than Tim. 

Snarling, teeth sinking deeper, terrifyingly strong jaw locking into place. Red peaking out of the newly shredded flesh, coating the yellow tinted teeth. 

An animalistic growl erupted from Tim's throat. Hand snapping open through the pain, if felt would be grounding yet agonizing, the crowbar clattering into the ground beside you. That didn't stop the control mixed with the inhuman strength forcibly gifted upon him to kick into action. Though bone was starting to fracture, tendons pierced and blood vessels forced open, Tim could still move his arm. A sudden movement, a violent swing. A black and brown blur yelping in surprise as his paws were torn off the forest floor. Grip loosening just enough for the force of the swing to have him flying. Not without taking a blur of tan and pink with him as he flew through the air. Torn fabric and skinned flesh.

**_THUD!_**

The impact send a light shudder through the thick tree, shaking branches and disturbing birds in their nests. His back slammed into the tree, a pitiful screech erupting from Goober as he slid down the tree's bark. No more yips, confused barks, defensive growls erupting from his throat. Limp on the ground, laid on his side almost peacefully if it wasn't for the mud caking his lower legs, his fur matted and wet. Cold. Scared. Confused. Almost unmoving. It was weak but it was there, the rise and fall of the side of his chest, breath. It could just be the slight breeze, almost refreshing if it wasn't for your circumstances. You hoped it wasn't wind and your wishful eyes playing tricks.

You would lose your shit if one more thing you loved died because of you. Which didn't mean much, you were already far gone. 

Breath finally coming enough into your lungs to feel somewhat comfortable, maybe you could get away. Maybe you wouldn't die.

Large and warm, tense around your throat. Tim's hand. Fingers pressing into the sides of the tender flesh. Leftover hickeys softly throbbing under the newfound pressure. One hand out of commission, the other empty and The Operator desperate for your death. Slow and horrible.

Yet he did not completely squeeze. He could crush your windpipe in a fucking instant but instead he hand rested firmly on your neck. Forced there, hand itching to squeeze the life out of you, fingers drumming on your neck as he fought for control. Tim was still fighting even knowing the inevitable. If he was still going, willing to fight, you would too. A window of opportunity open to speak, die fulfilled at the very least.

A ragged croak, painfully spoken, "I'm sorry." Your arms heavy but you forced them to move, joints groaning terribly inside your flesh, "I should have listened to you. I know I'm fucking-" You let out a series of coughs, blood and phlegm coming up from your throat in horrible chunks. Resting around your lips and on your tongue, even with your connection severed, **his** presence wasn't the best thing in the world for your body. "-Awful, I'm such a fucking drag to be around that you keep beating the shit out of yourself just bein' near me." You cracked a wavering smile, hands shaking as they rose up, reaching for the false face that had been forced upon him, "I know what's coming for me. Karma, comeuppance, whatever the fuck you wanna call it. I just want you to know something." His body quaking, hand twitching tighter around your throat as your hands grazed the sides of the cool porcelain. 

You could only wonder, laying beneath him, death incoming at his hand. Trepidation at the idea of same misfortune befalling him once more. The last time he thought it to be his fault but ultimately he didn't pull the trigger, not his literal killer but a contributor to the circumstances of Jay's demise. Guilt nagging at your muddied brain, another lover to be put six feet under. This time at his hand.

You could only wonder what his last words to Jay were. If they were sweetly loving, desperate, angry, or all three. Maybe a different tone altogether. You wondered if he'd be able to gather himself just enough to muster enough control over himself that he'd be able to push out a different message to leave you off with. Though 'I love you' was pretty fucking powerful.

"If I'm gonna die," The mask was tugged forward and up, slowly revealing twitching lips, blood and snot leaking from his strong nose, tears leaking from bloodshot eyes, "That I'm glad it's by your hand."

Opportunistic. You knew full well of his weaknesses, his insecurity, the pain he went through with Jay's death. Any death by any hands sucked, but your thought process was that it was at least someone who'd do it maybe a little bit gently. Yet it was also said to your advantage, a manipulative move that you hoped would work toward pulling him out of The Operators control. Sparking the thought of another lover dying, fault somewhat on him once more, hoping the new found determination to make sure that didn't happen once more would build up his fighting spirit. 

His hand relaxed but it did not remove itself from you throat, as you groaned, curling up into a slouched sit. Any second now, it could happen but death had yet to come. Mask lifted off his head, you let out a shuddering sigh as you threw it aside. Not looking where the wretched thing had gone. Your hands returned to where they once where, no more wall of porcelain blacking you from touching his skin, from trying to ground him. Feeling a weak vibration emitting from his skin, shaking your fingertips sickeningly.

Maybe you didn't have to die by his hand. Maybe he could hold out awhile longer. Help you burn this motherfucker to the ground. You only had one card left up your sleeve, one last gamble to play on Tim. It was time to roll the dice, go for the kill.

Lunging forward, you went with your first idea, sickly cheesy, stupidly cliche. You hoped for once, just fucking once, things would go the same way that they did in the movies. 

It was sickening to feel the buzz again, pressed to your skin. Though it may have been weak it was still ever present, **he** was in him, holding him hostage in his own body.A dead woman walking placing a desperate kiss on a potential killer, an almost ironic parallel to a princess and a frog. Instead of a dashing prince you wanted your unabashed bastard back. 

Pulling away, the weak buzz almost unbearable upon your lips, yet there was an undeniable hint of dopamine swirling somewhere in your brain. His eyes wide open, lips partially agape, saliva just barley about to overflow over the curve of his bottom lip. He hissed, forcing himself to swallow the bodily fluid. Gross.

"I love you too." No hesitation, no forcefulness, just the truth. He needed to know it if you were going to get fucked. but he was not free just yet, staring, crying, still feeling the shake beneath your fingers. He needed guidance, someone to lead him, the leader. Someone to rely on in these trying times, someone to inspire, further pour gallons of gasoline on the fire of his fighting spirit. "Tim, you're gonna fight," Firm, commanding, final yet with nothing to give other than radical ideas to rattle around his head in your wake, _"Because I told you to fight."_

Quivering lips opening and shutting, bloodshot eyes unable to stay locked in place like **he** wanted them to be. A hand still on your throat, the buzzing that came from his flesh dissipating. Yet not completely, it was still there, ever present, a looming threat. Tim had a momentary reprieve of control but his skin still sickly shook, this may not last long. Still, progress was progress, you'd take any advantage you could get. All to rock the boat for The Operator, all to die at least a little bit at peace, to not leave as much agony in your absence. 

A simple and quiet, "Okay." His hand removed itself from your throat, dizzying relief washing over you as you watched him wiggle his fingers, testing the waters of his body. The feeling of the shake concentrated over your neck felt like The Operator **himself** was holding you down.

That wasn't all he had to say as he leaned back, wanting to get away from you. A part of you told yourself that it was because of your selfish actions, one that would surely hurt him all in the name of uncertain change. But there was the more obvious note of him wanting to protect what he loved. Not trusting himself to stay in control for too long.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" He grunted out as he shakily stood over you, legs almost buckling as he adjusted. Looking up to him, morning light soft on his face.

"A lot." You croaked, taking the time to lean to your side and grab the lighter.

"No shit." Tim snarled, weak, angry, yet somewhat relieved. Sheer rage subdued by the exhaustion that was sure to be washing over him. The dopamine of seeing that you were okay and the fear of your incoming doom shining though his tone rather obviously. "You know you're gonna fuckin' die right?" Abrasive, walls clambering back up, trying to protect himself from the incoming pain. _"You're going to leave me."_

You held out your hand, trusting him to help you up instead of being taken over once more. Crush your palm in his fist, watching mindlessly as you screamed. Reaching out, an act of peace and love, a sledgehammer to the walls that were trying to rebuild. His desperation didn't go unnoticed, the guilt you felt for what you were doing to him of your own volition. Your hand an acknowledgment of what he could do but also a grounding loving touch, an offer he could decide not to take. A weapon of mass destruction and a peaceful bridge. 

He didn't immediately take it, looking down at the offer with concern. No trust in you or himself.

"I know." Bitter acceptance, "Honestly, I don't want to. I know I'm selfish, fucking stupid, shitty. I know I'm hurting you and I didn't want it to turn out like this. But it did. Now we're here and I don't know if there's anything I can do to keep myself alive much longer. Tim, I don't wanna die. I love you _so_ fucking much. I love Toby. I love Brian. I love Goober." You glanced to the dog, his head twitching as he dazedly came to. You looked Tim dead in the eye, honest, not hiding your intentions, "I deserve it for fucking sure, but I don't wanna go."

If there was an afterlife, you'd be dragged to hell or something like it, an irredeemable fuckhead. Meeting back up with Henry, Alexis, Michael, Dan, Jen. Missing out on Sully and Emile. Well, if God was discriminatory towards promiscuity then maybe, just maybe you'd see both of them in hell too. A fucked up part of you hoped you'd get to see them, suffer together for the rest of eternity. 

"You see what I've got going on here," A nod to the gasoline, to the lighter in your other hand, "I may not be long for this world or some shit but I want to do one last thing for you. I know controlling yourself right now's gotta hurt like hell but here you are, doing it for me, or maybe I'm being presumptuous, maybe you're doing it for you. I'm not a mind reader. But all I can think is that you've got a hope in hell, I know it sounds dumb after everything that's gone wrong but I think you can make it. I think you can escape, Tim." You rambled on and on, only somewhat believing your own words, heart thumping and desperate he considered them. "I know you don't and it's selfish and shitty of me to ask. But can you do a poor sonnova bitch a favor and set the forest on fire with me?" Stand, you wanted him to stand with you. You wanted him to take your hand, pull you to your feet, to choose your path. "Because I think maybe it'll help you break free or some shit, honestly I dunno. I just want to do something for you after everything I've-"

He took your hand. "Get up (Y/n)." A slight quake in his calloused palm, but he still pulled you up with a pained smile and a grunt. Your legs slightly buckling under the weight, stumbling into him. Instead of stopping yourself by putting your hands to his chest, you fell into him with open arms. A soft impact with his softly buzzing torso, you couldn't ignore it or make it simply disappear with a kiss, love didn't fix everything so easily, even if human touch could ground him he still had so much fighting to do. It took everything in you to break free, and you weren't even a proxy. You would help him as much as you could, be there for him. Your arms snaked around him, head on his shoulder. Comforting not just yourself but him despite the sick vibration you both could feel. He huffed, a bitter laugh, "You're so stupid, ya'know that?"

"Yeah." You sniffled, his arms wrapping around you, acceptance despite your sins. The two of you fucked the other over massively at different points in your pathetic lives, you supposed it was only fair for him to somewhat forgive you. Want to walk this dreaded path with you that he had not dared go down in years. "But you love me for it."

" _I do._ " Honesty, fear, fondness, a contradicting pool of emotions in his weak voice. He didn't want you to die, he didn't want his lover to be torn away from him again. He wanted to not only stand up to The Operator, but to walk with you. Forward into the future. 

There was the inkling of an idea, if he broke free of being a proxy. He'd be hunted too. Maybe even by his first real friend. Maybe even by the boy he'd taken under his protective wing. Death would come for him. Though you couldn't imagine him dying, seeing him pull through horrid injuries before. No longer being a proxy probably came with the lackluster abilities of the average human. Years of experience under his belt, even without inhuman strength you didn't doubt he had a mean right hook. You didn't doubt he could kick some serious ass, make it. 

He hadn't broken free though, not let go and unable to fully escape. You had to drop the idea of escaping together, him protecting you and you watching his back. You weren't the most experienced, not thinking that you were going to last into the early afternoon, you didn't think that you could make it like he could. Thriving off of friendly company, someone to help, someone to love, someone to crush baddies skulls open with, maybe then you'd make it. If only he could resign or do something so reprehensible to get fired.

You always had a feeling, a theory, it brought a stupid smile to your face when it was confirmed. That he did the awkward back pat when a hug was going on for too long than he was used to or comfortable with.

Pulling apart, bittersweet smiles exchanged with tear stricken faces. "Lets burn this motherfucker to the ground." He lowly suggested, resentment, hate for The Operator having him slightly giddy.

Controlling himself though the static, a horrible offense in the twink's eyeless sockets. To top that off, he was going to commit arson on **his** territory. Feeding off the misery from all of you. Feeding off the fear of those you'd killed. Even if this was just a shred of land in the expansive hunting ground with no defined limits, it was still something you saw as **his.** You refused to let **him** have nice things.

Goober whined as he slowly scrambled to his feet. Looking to the both of you with confusion in his big brown eyes and blood in his maw. No longer hurting you, no longer an enemy. You showing clear trust by standing so close. He did not understand the complexities, did not know why he was hurt. He growled but did not run forward and attack Tim. As long as Tim kept in line in Goober's eyes, he wouldn't get another nasty bite. Though he did slowly approach, back low, probably in pain that he did not understand. Despite all that, he was a selfless animal, here for you no matter what. Without you needing to guide him by the leash, he stood at your side. 

"You and me?" You held up the lighter, free hand softly placing a hand on Goober's head. Glancing suggestively to the darkened trail of sticks and leafs that littered for forest floor, gasoline. The soft _fwick, fwick, fwick_ , of the unreliable spark wheel being flicked by your thumb.

Finally lighting, a soft yellow between the two of you. You'd yet to bring it to the floor, waiting. 

His hand slid over yours, "You and me." The two of you bending down while taking a step back. Holding the flame to a soaked twig. Jumping back as it instantaneously lit up. Dropping the lighter into the quickly growing mass of flickering yellow and orange. Blazing down the path of gasoline, on an aggressively merry walk to the cabin. On it's way to fucking burn it down. 

You'd never started a forest fire before, one full blown. Though it had yet to turn into an orange hellscape, the fire was spreading quicker than you would have thought. It hadn't rained for a few days, things were dryer, easier to catch flame. The two of you backing up as a growing wall of orange spread itself down the trail, starting to expand off of its set path. Exploring new grounds, destroying everything it touched. 

"Holy shit." The flames crackled, opacity shifting and smoke rising. The two of you backing away, somewhat enamored by the wall of fire. 

Sharp cracks, akin to that of a whip, clear, distinct, loud. Repetitive groans that didn't sound like the sound of wood deteriorating. Over the ' _fwoosh'_ of the growing inferno was a soft crunching.

Darkness, a shifting silhouette behind the wall. One of them, Toby or Brian. Perhaps a trick of the mind, but you knew things were never that easy for you. If someone was on the other side, surely The Operator wouldn't make them walk through the flames. The searing heat would quickly have them deteriorate, incapacitated quickly from the pain of flesh melting. 

A foot, black and white sneaker. Warmly lit by the fire that danced around its emerging form. Then came the leg, fire flowing and bending around their body. The torso was next, brown of his sweater looking yellow while surrounded by the heat. The flame sticking to his form like The Operator's hold. Framing him, holding onto him, lighting him up in a blaze of horrible glory. Orange goggles blending into the symphony of oranges and yellows, face mask smiling at you while you looked on with horror and wonder.

Fire crawling up his hoodie, blazing around his head, an ethereally beautiful halo. Burning so bright that he was almost blinding to look at, a hand coming up to block your eyes from the sight. Angels were known to say, _"BE NOT AFRAID!"_ Yet while looking like an angel, dangerous and entrancing, he said nothing. Mouth forced shut by The Operator. You were very, very afraid despite his visual connections to an angel. You knew damn well he wasn't one. Never was, never will be.

All the same, he was looking to strike you down, hand raised, holding the flaming sword of Uriel, a hatchet ablaze, it's metal hot and red. Not to guard the gates of heaven, but to strike you down, to cleave your head in two and send you to Hell.


	55. 54 - Burnin' Up For You, Baby

_"Toby."_ Tim spoke carefully, taking slow and careful steps to stand in front of you. An arm slowly pushing you backward.

You would let yourself be protected but you wouldn't simply stand there and follow directions. When had you ever? You had to say something too, even if it was just his name. A plea to fall upon ears that could only hear piercing static.

"Toby!" Yelling over the ' _fwoosh'_ of the flames, trying to scream over the sound forced into his ears.

Orange goggles flickering, saturation shifting in the flame. Fixated on you and you alone. Even from partially behind Tim. Head snapping over and over to his shoulder, arms shifting and shuddering with exaggerated rolls of his shoulders. Hatchet raised above his flaming head, arm bending back, dread heavy in your guts. 

You called out once more, hoping that you could miraculously reach him. Live just a little bit longer, let him hear that you loved him, that you were sorry for hurting him. As much as you meant to, you didn't want it to turn out like this. Getting turned into mince meat seemed inevitable, Tim protecting you only delayed when your time would really be up. Being hurt in the process of trying to keep you alive, the dead woman walking. There was no point, he didn't need to do this, The Operator had beat his will down into a subdued ember. But the idea of you dying, not being able to protect you, letting the chance you set up for him to escape slide after you put your head on the chopping block. The idea of letting you down into the ground was something he hated, he was going to protect you because he wanted to. Fuck The Operator, fuck it's punishments, fuck being a proxy.

"Toby, please!" Poking out from behind Tim's frame, making eye contact with the circles of orange. The connection between you two, the love, the acceptance, the pain, you hoped you could pull him through the static with eyes met. Some kind of movie magic bullshit.

_**Crunch!**_

Wide eyes on the mass in front of you, blocking your view of Toby and bent back at an angle that it shouldn't be. A dark hand eclipsing the flame, rimmed by a golden glow. Dark red flicking in the light, reflecting the dancing heat. Some of it forcibly slapped onto your cheeks, you guessed Tim really was hot blooded. Grunting gutterally at the pain, wrist nearly severed off. The hatchet buried sideways into his flesh, forcibly stopped by thick bone. Inches from your face, the shaking appendage blocking the heated weapon from burying itself into your forehead. 

Holy shit. 

Twitching and burning, glove searing off his his hand as he reached for his other hatchet that hung from his bubbling belt loop. 

"(Y/n)." Tim hissed through gritted teeth, briefly glancing over his shoulder. Grimacing with a stern brow, in pain, one hand out of commission. Still moving, still fighting though the static, looking to you to see if you were okay when he was far from it. "Stay behind me." He ruggedly commanded, a slight scolding for your stupid actions that got a hatchet buried in his wrist.

"Uh." The two of you had to make your leave, soon, there was no time to fight off Toby with the fire clambering up trees and slinking toward you both. You wanted to drag him away, run, but you knew that wasn't going to slide. You wouldn't be happy with that result, leaving Toby in the ashes, running from The Operator's attack dog, admitting that you were no match when Tim was willing to risk it all. Through a lifetime of torment, though failed attempt after failed attempt, Tim was standing with you, willing to take Toby head on for your sake, his sake, Toby's sake. Protect you and tear Toby from The Operator's control. No man left behind. 

"Okay." You stiffly nodded, shrinking behind him but not without your mind racing a mile an hour. You weren't going to just stand there, knowing damn well a fight was about to break out. A damsel was something you'd never label yourself as, you were a vile bastard caked in mud, snot, and blood. Not a princess waiting to be rescued from a spiraling tower. 

You were going to look for something, anything to aid Tim with. Either to pass off to him as a weapon or to raise against Toby yourself. You wouldn't like it but it's what had to be done. Talking at this point wouldn't get you anywhere with the jittering mass of flesh and flame. 

Thumping, roaring, a wet crunch. You tore your eyes from the forest floor, the hatchet torn from Tim's wrist by his still working hand. Limp hand hanging by his side from a sliver of unbroken bone and muscle. Tim hissing, tensing and bracing himself for the incoming fireball. Toby running full-speed at him. The blaze stuck to his curling and searing clothing, thinning around his front and dragging in a wispy trail behind him. 

The Operator's will, flames coming to cleanse impurities, punish Tim and kill you.

You jumped out of the way, putting two and two together that you did not want to be behind Tim at the moment. Toby throwing his weight onto to man, having him harshly stumble back, nearly falling over his own feet as he did so. Yet he steadied himself through the collision, Toby's forced touch setting his tan jacket alight just barley.

Goober yipping and bounding desperately away from the men. Running toward the direction of forest yet to be set alight, stopping himself. Looking over his furry shoulder at you, eyes begging you to follow, escape with him. Not understanding the circumstances. You may have gotten out of their way but you had no intention of running away until the job was done. Til you had Toby in your clutches. Ears flat to his head and tail between his legs, muscles tense and wanting to run, Goober stayed. If you were staying then he would too.

Though Tim was able to shove Toby's orange and yellow body off of him with a grunt of effort, it wasn't without getting a hatchet swiped at him. Aimed right for his head, looking to brain him. Leave him in a slumped heap, limp and unmoving while the fire he helped start would lick away at his body. Unable to control himself but be forced awake, feel the smoke filter into his lungs, feel his skin melt and bubble. Punishment for disobeying. 

Tim had been around the block quite a few times, experience under his belt. Through lighthearted beatings that were their play fights, hatchets swung at him in manic episodes, knowing how efficient The Operator could be with controlling its meat puppets, he saw it coming. Throwing himself back and up, though not being unscathed. The very edge of the hatchet catching his forehead and brow bone, slicing through sweaty skin and a thick eyebrow. Blood began to pour down the side of his face but the man didn't seem to notice, trying to steady himself and watch for Toby's next move. 

He was just barley keeping himself afloat above the black surface tension, only breaking through with your helping hand. The hand you'd taken was hanging limply by his side, sickly swaying with his movements. Not quite gone, holding on by a sliver of flesh. Other hand holding a hatchet, a hand to fight Toby's controlled body off with, looking to help him. 

Never being the best with his words, in a dire situation, but being your sometimes charismatic leader, he had something to say. "Toby! You don't have to," Another swing, nearly slicing his jugular open, "Do this! Look at me! I'm in control! (Y/n) can't be controlled anymore, we can get out!" Desperately hopeful words, you really had rubbed off on him. Relying on things said in the moment, not waiting for a _deus ex machina_ to come into play, god would not help bastards like you. "I know it's hard. But," You had a feeling he was talking hopefully out of his ass, you both were the same, "We can help you!"

It was validating to hear the cynical man spout the same desperate dogma that you did. On your side one-hundred percent. Even with the possibility of punishment, even with the chance of you dying, he was still going to carry out your will. But while you were here, he'd do everything he could to make sure that you'd stay by his side. Maybe not having to carry out your will without you there, maybe getting to walk with you. 

Hope, words, and fists were all the two of you had to try and pull Toby from **his** control. A task that already seemed to prove difficult, words falling on forcibly deaf ears. Toby aflame when it had been made clear that fire to him was violently triggering. Fire taking his mother, watching her scream and writhe. Breaking down when Tim's face was melted off. Now he was silent in the flame, scraps of dissipating cloth falling from his form, the obnoxiously vocal boy completely silent. Far gone, controlled, being forced into a scenario from his nightmares only being able to watch from his melting flesh prison. 

Another swing, another miss. Tim holding the hatchet, hot and coated in his own blood, grimacing through the burning, the served flesh, and at the idea of hurting Toby. "Come on kid! I don't wanna hurt you."

_**Crunch!**_

Another skin saving block from his arm. Taking the hatchet with a growl to the same arm that took it before. Further down his arm, cracking his forearm open, tendons severed and bones shattered, more red hot blood spurting out. The hand that willingly took yours did not fall to the forest floor, it held on through another dangling string of flesh. Tim's body stubbornly holding onto the hand, not willing to give it up, not willing to let the bridge that connected the two of you before to be fully severed.

Toby yanked the hatchet from Tim's arm, tan fabric stained red. Tim's jacket still lit, tiny smoking flames were climbing up his chest, trying to grow on his shoulders. The Operator's influence there but barely while Toby was fully aflame, most of his hoodie singed off, the color of his skin was imperceptible through the dancing orange. All you knew was that it was melting, opening up, exposing boiling veins, showing off warping muscle. 

"Okay," Tim let out a shuddering breath, keeping it together just barley, _"That's it._ Sorry 'bout this Toby!"

As Toby reared his arm back to slam into Tim's body once again, Tim brandished his own hatchet. Pushing himself forward at the lean and melting boy, beating him to punch, or more accurately, cut. Jamming the hatchet into his shoulder, slicing the tendon that pulled on his muscles to keep his arm on the move through the blaze. You expected there to be a wet slap all you could hear was the loud crackle of the flames that stuck to Toby's form. 

His arm violently slacked, body shuddering with the impact. Toby had not stopped moving though, rolling his head while his still working arm flew though the air. Tim grunted, yanking the hot metal from Toby's exposed skin. Gooey and stretching strings of flesh coming away with blade. Like cheese on a slice of pizza was pulled away from the pie, long clinging strands. In the process of stumbling away from the burning man, Tim shook the open jacket off his shoulders. Almost comically shimmying it off. Revealing a white t-shirt underneath, old stains of pasta sauce on his chest. He refused to throw the thing away, even when you and Brian lightly made fun of him for it. Him saying that it was a perfectly good shirt, still wearable, which was a fair point it was just stupid to see your composed leader proudly wearing stained clothing like a thirty year old bachelor. Shedding himself from the uniform forced upon him, blazing with flames The Operator tried to consume him with.

Both boys had one arm to defend themselves, you had two and were just standing and staring. Entranced by your bloody savior and your angelic pursuer. You snapped yourself out of it just like you had with **his** will. You had to help in anyway you could, find something to help beat Toby's ass with. If you couldn't talk him down, you'd just incapacitate him, force him into your arms.

Grabbing the hatchet as his hand grew limp, Toby let his arm dangle uselessly while the other quickly sprung into action. The hooded halo burned away, blue fabric turned black and singing off. That didn't remove fire from his head, soft orange heat had crawled up the front of his face, burning up his curls and crawling around his goggles. Needily clinging to his face mask, the cloth curling in on itself, falling away at the flames will. Revealing his gash to the licking heat, attempting to expand, curling silently into his mouth. 

Tim had somehow been dodging most of the relentless swings from Toby. Getting hit hard but it wasn't anything he couldn't handle. At the end of the day, regardless if you died or not, he'd heal from his wounds. That didn't mean it wasn't alarming, his pained scream as Toby got a mean hit in, making your heart clench. Right on his side, catching him in his midsection. 

Your breath catching in your throat, you forced yourself to look away to look so a thick stick or something. Anything to help Tim who was currently screaming and babbling out a _, "FUCKS SAKE!"_

The entire confrontation had the wall of fire ever expanding, clambering forward dangerously. Heat rising while your heart pumped out terrified adrenaline.

That's when you saw it.

Squinting through the smoke and the harsh light of the flames you saw Tim's crow bar, laying forgotten in the dirt. Just about to be overtaken and snatched out of your reach by the growing forest fire. Tim's screaming, need for support, had you lurching into action and forcing yourself toward the overwhelming hotness, eyes stinging with tears.

It was like a wake up slap for your exhausted and heavy body. Though it would not instantly deter you, the sting upon your palms had you jumping back in a hissed recoil. More added danger with no thrill, desperation, the horribly grounding searing at the loss of a single layer of skin. Hotly stinging even when your body involuntarily dropped the crowbar back into the dirt. The labored breathing from Tim, the sound of heavy footsteps as he let out a series of curses, it build up your courage to grab the hot metal. Not down and out just yet. 

Raggedly screeching as two palms snatched the crowbar from the forest floor. A wisp of fire grazing by your fingers as you pulled it up, feeling the horrid heat that had you growling. It hurt, your brain screamed at you to let go but you held on, forcing your grip tighter. Turning about face, seeing your boys fighting.

Tim's white t-shirt stained with something other than pasta sauce. Hatchet having been yanked out of him, leaving a thick slit of exposed muscle in it's wake. Hand and forearm still hanging in there just barely. His hand that held the weapon shaking, the effort it took to stay in control showing obviously. Mental fortitude on display, still standing. Just like how you inspired him, he did the same for you.

Toby's jeans singeing away as the side of his face that donned his gash had started to warp. Skin melting and oozing over itself, some curling past the threshold of the gash. Molten skin dribbling into his mouth while fire pulled at his lips. A slight charring on his exposed teeth, a growing black coating. 

As you forced yourself forward, a scream ripping from your vocal cords, a battle cry and an expression of pain. The feeling of your (s/c) hands melting and warping making your footing desperate and messy. 

Though disposing of Tim, dishing out a punishment, was part of his mission, killing you was on top of Toby's forced priority list. His head snapping up from his shoulder and to you. Orange circles loosing their sheen with the heat, a sickly matte. The two of you raising your weapons, his mouth shut while yours was stretched open, angrily baring your teeth.

Being so close him, burning because of your hubris, you could smell him. A rancid nose curling odor, a slap of dank metallic that had the air around him being thickly humid. He smelled like a burning Barbie doll, burnt hair that reminded you of your teenage years combing with the smell of fabric and skin. His body a barbecue straight out of hell, bloody meat cooked over charcoal. 

He was faster than you. The Operator's control, his abilities horribly gifted to him; he was going to hit you first. Red stained and rusty metal coming down like a guillotine because The Operator deemed off with your head. Time seemed to slow as it came ever closer, your eyes widening while bringing down the crowbar. Too slow, realizing your mistake. This was it.

**_Crunch!_**

Toby was fast, in a feral frenzy. Tim was weakened by his injuries and battle for control but he wasn't stupid. Seeing you come running, brandishing something your body should have made you drop by now, he sprung into action to try to further extend your life longer than you really deserved. He took a gamble too, another testament to your influence. Not shielding you with his useless arm, but instead forcing the hatchet forward before the two of you mutually brought down your weapons.

Beating Toby to the punch of bodily harm. Tim's stolen blade burying itself into his wrist, jerking his movement to a stop with the cracking of bone. You hadn't stopped your swing, time resuming as the hot metal continued its descent.

**_Bonk!_**

He may have been numb to pain, durable beyond belief, but he was no fucking match for hysterical strength, determination, adrenaline, hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. 

Molten red spraying and evaporating in the heat from his partially hairless head. Dropping to the ground, Tim releasing the hatchet and quickly burst into action. Rattling from the impact, the crowbar was quickly released from your palms much to your relief. A searing sting, hands quaking as you took a moment to look to them, reddened and littered with partially cauterized openings. 

You forced your throbbing hands down, unable to curl them closed as you looked at him, face down in the dirt. Flames curled around his head, singeing the remaining hair on the back of his head. The proximity allowing you to make out how some of his body was darkened, not charred. It was the color of his insides compared to his pasty skin. The skin that was cruelly warped and twisted, peeled away to reveal layer after layer of tissue.

Orange shifting heat licked at your bare feet. You backed away, the forest fire almost meeting the flames that encompassed Toby. Tim was back by your sides, throwing his extinguished jacket onto Toby. Putting a thick lid on the fire, inner lining not as easily flammable. He was trying to kill it, deprive it of oxygen. Despite stray flames coming up to claw at his one usable arm, searing off arm hairs in the process, Tim grabbed the jacket and aggressively patted it onto Toby's body. Trying to speed up the process as the larger fire grew ever closer. 

Desperation, maybe by a miracle, he made semi-quick work of it. Snuffing the heat out, suffocating it with a harsh pat down. You were at his side in a second, shaking from stress, adrenaline and pain but on your knees nonetheless. Knowing you had to get out of this hellscape as soon as possible, knowing there wasn't a chance that either of you would leave Toby here. Even if he was still under **his** control, even if you were both evil to the core, you cared for him. Not letting him grow more traumatized, not leaving him to deteriorate and melt into himself with no death for days on end. 

You were somehow the least fucked up of the lot of them, Toby with two semi-useless arms, Tim with one arm dangling painfully in pieces, so you took it upon yourself to grab at Toby first. Shoulders hot and sickly, malleable under your touch, you could feel an ever present quake. One of them was slicked with blood, you did your best to not let your hand slip into the gash. The heat in your burned hands only growing worse, he may have been put out but his body temperature was unbearably through the roof. Hissing, tear jerking agony having your palms throbbing as your shaky arms tried to tug him upright. Using your legs to bring yourself somewhat up, peeling his torso from the ground on your own. 

You weren't alone. A hand next to yours, gripping the warped body and further lifting.

"Come on. Let's get you outta here." Pointed at Toby, not wanting him to suffer. To you as well, wanting to walk with you. 

And walk you did. Though it was more of a hasty shuffle. Tim's good arm under the boy's armpit, wrapping around his back and supporting his weight as much as he could. You on his other side doing the same. The both of you huffing and puffing, the smell of burning wood and smoke wafting through the forest, your lungs burning and screaming for oxygen. The horrible blaze a backdrop to the sound of your dragging feet. Though you could move away from the flames, moving faster than they could, your energy was draining once more. Sore, tired, injured, mentally fried, dragging a six foot something adult with skin starting to slowly resoildify. His legs dragging behind the both of you, being the tallest of the three of you. Exposed muscle occasionally catching on rocks and roots. Thank god he couldn't feel pain, you couldn't imagine what that would feel like. He couldn't feel it because of his condition, and a thought crept up on you as you felt beads of sweat running down your forehead. Toby couldn't sweat. You had to get him out of this heat or he might just have a massive seizure.

You were sure the cabin was up in smoke by now. Soon to be nothing but a heap of ash and memories. The mini-van that could have provided an easier escape had to be burning too, Brian's motorcycle as well. He was going to be _so_ mad about that. Although, you didn't quite know. You hadn't caught a single glimpse of the man the entire time. The thought had the already heavy dread growing heavier inside of you. Destination unknown, anywhere but this god forsaken forest. Currently escaping without a key member of your party.

Without you tugging on his leash to guide him, Goober followed along. Occasionally whining at the pain that had him limited to a clambering walk. Following you despite his confusion, loyal to a fault. But you were glad to not have someone questioning your morals and motivations for once. 

Ahead of the fire but certainly not out of the woods yet, you opened your mouth. The air thick with tension, things unsaid hanging above your heads. Things that head been said that were said in earnest but they could not change what you'd done. The domino affect you started by your ineptitude. You just wanted to talk, hear Tim's voice as much as you could, comfort eachother with biting or teasing words. Even if he called you names, even if he berated you for your crimes, you wanted to hear it. "How are you holding up?"

"Well, I'm not dead yetso that's something I guess." He grunted, sarcastic, biting, "You're not either but I'm not gonna lie to you (Y/n)," He glanced over Toby's head, lulled down and neck limp, brows knit, frowning, _"You should be."_

"I know." You sighed, everything was so fucking heavy. All you wanted to do was lie down and take a thirteen hour nap. But you couldn't, you had shit to do. A wannabe god to spite. Boys to lead to salvation. "Thanks for saving my skin back there. Know it's tough," To break free, to keep control over yourself though sheer determination, "To deal with my shit all the time."

"Won't deny that you just fucked everything up." Tim admitted something you saw coming. He was never one to sugar coat, " _I'm pissed_ but I'm too tired to yell at you right now." You were tempted to let out an exaggerated sigh of relief but held it in, not wanting to rub salt in his open wounds, "Just know that after I get us out of here, I'm gonna tear you a new one."

You gave him a tight lipped smile, he was determined to not let you die when you'd begun to accept your most likely agonizing fate. Tim was going for it, all in. Walking down your path and dragging Toby along with you.

"Don't put this all on yourself." Alike as always, the both of you with the habit of trying to be martyrs. Starting this mess alone, knowing you weren't anymore with his support, you wouldn't let him take the weight of all of your worlds on his shoulders. "This is my fault," You wouldn't make the mistake again of trying to take everything on by yourself, "Let me take responsibility but please don't stop helping," Holding Toby, inspiring you, staying strong through the static, _"I can't do this alone."_

There was a beat of silence between the both of you. Tense acceptance, camaraderie, hope. 

Continuing forth, you brought your other hand up. Toby's googles were still pressed into his face. Face mask long gone, cheeks contorted inwardly, one nostril flat against his face. Septum piercing hanging awkwardly from his warped nose. The hoop on his ear still present, even with the melding of his ear to the side of his head. Some hair singed shorter, some spots free of hair all together. A red indent right on the top of his head. He looked like complete shit but that's just how the cookie crumbles when one is forced into fire. At the end of the day, if you made it that far, he'd look a lot less worse for wear. Skin shifting back into place, regrowing hair and old scars resurfacing.

You wanted to remove the goggles, peel away the blinds that covered the windows to his soul. They were warm to the touch, slowly peeling off his face and sticking to your hands. Not without a little resistance though, taking a harsh tug to removed the circles of plastic up. Tearing free, leaving red circles around his eyes, unburned and intact. With a sigh, you removed the things from his head, letting them fall to the ground. A physical representation of disconnect from The Operator but there was no confirmation in your head that he'd been freed.

"What are we gonna do when he wakes up?" You questioned raspily, looking intently at his peacefully shut eyes. The hatchet was left in his wrist, the other left where he'd been forced to drop it. 

"Best bet is for you to hug him." Tim deadpanned, as you looked to him with mild confusion. "I'll sing."

"What?" You had no room to doubt his strategy, going for a hug and kiss to break him free. Toby thrived off of physical comfort and cooed words. You just didn't know where Tim singing fell into the equation.

"Lullaby." Tim vaguely explained much to your visible chagrin.

At your visible confusion he sighed, spelling it out for you, "Remember when I had that seizure? Not the one from this morning but the big one. Brian told me you heard him sing it, the song that we think his ma sang to him? Well, he used to sing it a fuck ton. Mostly his first year here. Sometimes he'd get so bad that he couldn't really talk anymore, so I kinda started singin' to him when he got like that. Know it by heart."

You hummed in response, curtly nodding. You hoped that mushy fairytale bullshit would work. "We'll double team him, ya'know?" Tim spoke with a bit more confident conviction, "Just might work."

Speak of the devil and he shall appear. Or in Toby's case, he will be forced awake the second his body could handle it. 

His head snapped up, eyes wide open and glued to you. The eye contact was empty, no personal connection of your souls; just a hunter seeing his prey. Hungry. The only connection between you two that wasn't emotional was his teeth at the base of your neck. Warm saliva generated unnaturally quickly, the body fluid slicking your skin as he started to bite.

Breath catching and muscles stiffening, you launched Tim's plan into action. Leaning into him as he chomped down, sharp canines digging easily into you as you whimpered. Putting complete faith in Tim as you wrapped your attacker into a tight hug.

It was just like the first time he tried to give you a hickey but much, much worse. Teeth digging deeper then before, mouth open wider, constantly salivating, teeth slowly sinking in. A slight buzz emanating from the pearly whites, being forced upon you. Body weakened but still being forced to move. 

He didn't leave you hanging, as the both of you stopped, Toby's legs just barely moving trying to get some footing. Toby's body had been pushed to its limits, a weak weapon, a dulled blade for now.

Tim immediately began jabbering out in a melodic mess of words, " _Guten abend, gute nacht."_ Toby didn't stop and Tim didn't either, _"Mit rosen bedacht."_ The words pronounced differently then Toby had, memorized but spoken in foreign tongue. No slowing down of the crushing of your lower neck, you grit your teeth and grunted.

"It's okay angel, we've got you." Strained words cooed into his deformed ear. Holding him tighter. 

_"Mit näglein besteckt schlupf unter die deck."_ The sweet verbal assault, Tim's working hand rubbing his exposed back.

His jaw stuttered, pausing, continuing, pausing, continuing as you cooed hoarsely, "It'll be okay."

_"Morgen früh, wenn gott will."_ His jaw no longer continued its descent into you. Painful throbbing around teeth that had been jammed into your neck.

"I know that you can beat this."

_"Wirst du wieder geweckt."_ The vibrating of his body lessened ever so slightly.

A single prolonged groan, sound. He was making sound through the static, he could hear you and he was letting you know it. Hardly able to move on his own without The Operator's influence, unable to support his own weight, weak but fighting.

You didn't let up. "That's good Toby, I knew you could do it."

_"Morgen früh, wenn Gott will."_ Tim couldn't stop crying, through the fight with Toby to carrying him along. The waterworks had been flowing with no sign of stopping anytime soon. Tears of dread, agony, and at the sight of seeing him fight so hard and so well, joy.

Dislodging his teeth slowly, head quivering as his neck strained to move though the buzz. You helped him out in the form of a hand on the back of his head, dragging his head up. Leaving your neck free of teeth, bloody but intact. 

The words came out unsure but loud, final, banishing. 

_"Wirst du wieder geweckt-echkt."_

_"I love you, Toby."_

The shake became subdued, weak but present. Still a proxy but in control, just barely holding onto consciousness and free will. He made a sound akin to that of a dying animal, bloodshot eyes just barely able to focus on yours. Confused, hurt, with a softened edge. Tim and you had yet to continue on your journey away from the incoming inferno. Unsure if it was safe to move, any little jostle could break the mental fortitude Toby momentarily hung onto.

The two of you stared at the boy with baited breath as he let out a babble of jargon, completely incomprehensible. You both talked in hushed coos, words of encouragement and a reminder of a comfort from another life long passed. The roar growing closer, the woods behind the three of you growing more hot and hellish by the second.

Finally something coherent passed his distorted lips, slurred out pitifully, _"You lied."_

Taken aback, surprisingly astute as much as he could be, calling you out. You told him you wouldn't die, telling him you didn't want to. A few days later you went on a fucking suicide mission. 

"I'm not a liar." You retorted, warm with a wavering smile on your chapped lips. You thought of the fat stash of chapstick he'd stolen, keeping it under his bed for his and your use. It was melting right about now. A sickly pool smelling of artificial cherries and honey. "I'm not dead yet."

It was a technicality. Flimsy but true.

Tim glanced over his shoulder, shifting Toby while your breath hitched. The boy slipped back into incoherent words. It was growing closer and closer, the heat. Sand in the hourglass pummeling down. You had to keep moving, risk the chance of another bite. 

The first few steps forward were slow and careful, eyes fixated on Toby. You still supporting his head, studying his expression which didn't relay much. Just his jaw moving stiffly, eyelids struggling to blink on their own, still staring at you. Too preoccupied with keeping his shit together to emote. 

Pace gradually picking up, a labored hobble as Toby's legs dragged behind still. The buzzing of his skin coming in and out in gut churning waves, You and Tim tensing whenever he got quiet for a split second. Even when dazed he was still an absolute chatterbox. He didn't come in for another taste of your flesh, though occasionally saliva would dribble from his elongated gash. Not conscious enough or not caring, he didn't swallow the spit down, letting it pour.

It reminded you of another time, a time you couldn't break free of the operator. Controlling himself, making sounds, not eating you alive through the need for answers, the want to see you live, the love you shared. Unlike you and Sully, not strong enough to struggle, not strong enough to get a single pause in or a loving word. 

It came out weakly, the response, " _Yuuh-you're guh-guh-gonna be."_

Frowning, guilty, responsible for his emotional turmoil, his melted body, his disorientation, his fight for freedom. "I'm sorry that I scared you. But it's going to be okay." A shuddered sigh passed your lips, bare feet sore and pounding, "You're controlling yourself, you're not hurting me, you're fighting **him**. Toby it's a fucking miracle what's goin' on here. _We can make it."_

Death didn't seem as imminent, two battles semi-won. The boys still proxies but moving against **his** will. Maybe this would be worth it after all. The pain you put them though, it would stick with them for years, but those years would be full of domestic freedom. Being as normal as possible, not having to be unsure of when they'd come and go, not have to see them come home caked in blood.

In response he grumbled, then promptly stuttering, "Mmuh-make sssssuh-sure to not buh-bump into _her._ Ssssh-she's right th-the-there." An ever so slight movement of his shoulders, body weakly trying to tic. Regain normalcy for him.

Maybe he wasn't all there. But still, he was here nonetheless. The most he could move was his jaw, eyes, and just barely his shoulders. In control as best as he could be for how horribly overwhelmed he was. It was a fucked up melty mess of a miracle.

All you needed to do was keep up like this somehow. Keep them fighting until the day they felt the stretching and snapping, the cleanliness of the severed connection. You'd be there to guide them every step of the way. A fellow survivor and an example to live for. Your days as a final girl had long since passed. Escaping alone was out of the question. There would be no more solo confrontations, no more dead friends. You were part of a unit, strong and unbreakable. Though weakened, you were all willing to fight, to walk.

The future was dead ahead. Tim leading the way, mumbling out warnings when he was going to start heading a different direction. Years of experience in this rancid place coming into clutch one last time. Through the next few days, the trees you passed by, the weeds you stepped on, the wild flowers you glanced at, this would all burn. Be nothing but scorched earth. Uninhabitable for a long time. A hot loogie in the face of the wannabe god.

It followed like your loyal dog who stayed bounding by your side. Occasionally pressing up to your shifting leg for support. The fire, bending to your angry will as well as trying to play catch up. Wanting something other than plants and small animals to scorch. Getting a taste for human and greedily wanting more. Trees groaning, loud snaps as flimsier trees buckled under the flame, slamming onto the forest floor. The earth shuddering under your bare feet. Always making you tense, vibrations weren't something you quite enjoyed feeling. Even if it wasn't tied to the twink bitch, it still sent a chill down your spine. Reminiscent of the feeling of being controlled. Already having to force yourself to expose yourself to the soft quake of Toby's body. It was a lot to handle. 

Heart thumping and repeating phrases of endearment to yourself in your brain; _' Just keep going. It'll be over soon. They'll be okay.'_

They. Your boys. Your lovers and losers. Fighters for you and themselves. 

Toby, fucked up, still wanting to let you know through his mumbling to himself and Lyra, through his incomprehensible grumbles and moans, _"I luhh-love you."_ He couldn't push something better out, mind muddied.

"I love you too, Tobes." Speaking as loud and clear as you could, meaning every syllable. You didn't forget about him either, "Timbert?"

He glanced over at you, mostly unamused at your lightheartedness while dragging your burnt comrade away from a wildfire. Although there was an undeniable twitch of the edges of his lips, just barely. He hummed in response, trying to concentrate on his self assigned mission. Not wanting to waste his breath on it, perhaps thinking that you were going to say some stupid bullshit one-liner to try and up the mood.

"I love you." You reminded him with a loving gaze. His mild shock had you huffily laughing, lips ever so slightly agape stupidly. 

He didn't pause or falter, dead set determined to lead all of you out. You were glad, it was nice to have someone be just as willful as you for once. That wasn't stupid, your admission, adoration, worn upon your sleeve, an example to be followed.

"Love you too, dummy." He shot back in a grumble. Sprinkling in the nickname in, unafraid to admit it, willing to repeat himself like a broken record. Probably regretting not telling you earlier, he wasn't going to wait again. Not going to hold himself back romantically, though he'd still be awkward and janky, a blushing mess, he wouldn't hold back. Maybe not transforming into a super touchy lover but one that never let you forget that he loved you. 

You chuckled, smiling stupidly as Toby mumbled, _"Pug-poggers."_

Between the both of you. Rooting you on from the stands that were his semi-paralyzed body. Not completely mentally put together but okay enough to try and make you smile like he always loved to. Warm butterflies in your tummy as flesh eating flame gave rolling chase. 

There was a missing piece, an obvious absence. Even Goober was here but _he_ wasn't. If he was he'd probably hold the poor dog like a baby, insisting on carrying him along while taking you by the hand. Not here to feel the love and thick tension, not here to help hold up Toby and give Tim soft words of encouragement. Not fighting the sickening buzz, doing everything he could to keep it together. Even if he couldn't move you and Tim would find a way to drag him along. 

Brian.

There was a looming sense of dread that had goosebumps crawling over your body. He wasn't fighting because he was out there somewhere, under **his** control. Donning the dull yellow hoodie and a red frown. A rifle in hand, maybe a shotgun, maybe a pistol. Perhaps going for good ole fashion fists slammed into your face.

Hoodie.

One in the same. One loving but dangerous, horrible, sadistic, honestly a terrible person. One an unfeeling puppet whenever **he** deemed it, objectively worse. You wondered where he was.

**_B A N G !_**


	56. 55 - Shoot Your Shot

A searing sudden heat like a solid gust of wind hit your face. Stinging, the sudden awareness of flesh you never paid any mind to. Something you couldn't see was hot, an outline of pain where something should be but was not. 

The passing thing whizzed by, an almost deafening rush of hot air. Hitching your breath as your right ear rang, a hand impulsively coming up to slap itself over the damage. You whipped your head over your shoulder, fingers touching the wrong spot. Exposed cartilage and skin shuddering under the touch, a jagged semi-circle of missing flesh on the top of your ear. 

There he was. The wildfire behind him had grown into a red and deep orange mass, outlines of black burning plant matter framing his image. A rim of flickering angry light outlining him. The others had shed their forced skins, work uniforms and masks left to burn. Yet here Brian was, unburned, unscathed, pistol in hand. A hand that you noticed were free of black gloves, a shred of humanity shining through the cloth. The dots of his red frown boring into you, the fabric eyes of the grim reaper coming to collect what you owed.

"Fuck." Tim shifted into place the second the ricocheting sound cracked through your surroundings. Letting go of Toby, letting him slide onto you with no warning. There was no time for one, fire growing closer and Brian being a perfectly submissive meat puppet. Ready to pop a cap in your ass and not just graze you.

The boy groaned, weight slacking onto you. He started to slide down as you moved, in your shock you had released his head. Now it lulled while you reeled at the sudden change, surprise having you struggling to hold him properly. As his useless legs didn't support him, he was forced to lean over your back, a grunt escaping you at the sudden weight combined with the searing pain in your ear.

_**B A N G !**_

Jerking violently forward into your back with an annoyed grumble, Toby struggled to try and support his own weight. All while you shifted, grabbing at him and turning your body about face. The jab of a movement had the buzzing of Toby's skin worsening and your heart thundering in your rib cage. There was no hot hole of pain in your chest, there was no loss of consciousness, there was no bullet embedded in your flesh. Toby had unintentionally took a bullet to the shoulder blade as he slid down your back, a shot meant for the back of your neck. 

"Holy shit! Toby, are you okay?!" You asked the semi-limp man who was covered in third degree burns. Strong enough to at least tic gently through the pain. A roll of the same shoulder that had a bullet lodged in it, ignoring the pain that he could not feel. 

You didn't get an immediate answer, just a groan as you scrambled to hold him upright, all the while shrinking behind him. Panic momentarily overriding the need to see and talk at Brian. A hand on his shoulder, the gash-less one. A hand on his midsection, trying to evenly support his weight as he grumbled, feet just barely moving as he tried to continue to help you out. 

Finally responding, a foot managing to move properly and weakly put itself into the dirt, helping as much as he could. A slurred, "It's oooh-okay." Everything was happening so fast, "I'll proooh-protect you sssson-sonnenblümchen."

Not even able to lift the weight of his own head to look at you. Weak, trying his best through the wavering static in his body. Even more unsteady since Tim let go, but still holding on, still fighting. You needed to keep your hands on him at all times, constant touch to ground him and keep him with you. He just might revert back to the mindless state of a meat puppet if you weren't touching him in some way, shape, or form.

"Brian!" Tim called out while you let out a shuddering breath at the name. Another hurdle to overcome, tall and hating change. He carefully approached the man, stupidly hopeful like you were. Spouting some shit straight out of an annoyingly hopeful protagonist's mouth, "Get ahold of yourself!" Ragged voiced, uncertain and terrified for the fate of the one not in the loop, "Look at me." He commanded, Brian didn't move his baggy head. Frown focused on you hiding behind Toby's flesh. Thoughts being forced into his head on how to get around the obstacle that stood between him and a bullet between your eyes. "I know it fuckin' sucks but Toby and I ar-"

_**B A N G !**_

His head snapped to Tim for a split second, gun hardly kicking back in his iron grasp. Tim however did shudder under the sudden force of a bullet burying itself in his upper arm, the same arm that already had horrible wounds that made it worse. It felt petty. Despite being controlled, hardly able to hear himself think, a shred of Brian's personality shone through in the form of rubbing salt in the wounds of the one who dare challenge him, who dare suggest change, who dare join the side of tomfoolery. 

_"Oh, come on!"_ Tim growled out, stumbling back but still standing as Brian's frown was directed toward you and Toby once more. The second his head started to turn, you did your best to duck completely behind Toby's body. He couldn't say much but you had a feeling that this is what he meant by protect you, be a consenting meat shield. 

_**B A N G !**_

Another harsh shudder of Toby's body, another bullet taken for you with an annoyed grunt. An uptick in the static at the wound forced onto him by The Operator. Almost overwhelming under your hands, a growing crescendo of the horrible sensation. 

You had to ground him, "Look at me." His head stuttered upward before lulling back down, static not dissipating, "Toby, hey. Look at me." Firm yet soft, comforting and commanding. He took a wheezy breath, stiff neck slowly rising. If you had a free hand you would hold his cheek, help him support his head, but you were having enough trouble holding his limp body.

Head not coming upright but it was now slightly lifted as he turned his face from the ground to you. "Huh?"

"Stay with me," Grounded, uncontrollable, a request to live together still after all this shit is done and over with, "We're gonna get outta here."

_**B A N G !**_

Flesh buzzing beneath your fingertips, a spike in the feeling once more as Toby's body jittered. Another shot taken at him in hopes to hit you. Trying to work his way around the problem quite literally. Brian had begun to walk, trying to get around Toby while staying at a distance. You'd have to start turning him, throwing him around like a rag doll if you wanted to live. 

In response to another circle of led jammed into his flesh, maybe a response to your words, a confirmation of hope and faith, _"Meeeaattt sssuh-_ _ssssuh-shield!"_

The bottoms of his unburnt eyelids crinkling upward with his gnarly smile, adorned with charred teeth and twisted skin. Weakly spiting at The Operator, smiling while protecting you from **his** wrath, leaning into your grounding touch while taking bullet after bullet for you.

"Brian." Tim had kept up his approach, not one too good with his words but still trying to talk him down and out of his mind controlled state. He didn't want to have to hurt another comrade again but things were starting to lean in that direction. He was hurting Toby, trying to kill you, Tim wouldn't stand for that shit but not without trying your way of things, diplomacy, "Listen to me."

You gasped, quickly grunting in effort while ducking, fingers digging into Toby's gnarly skin. Dragging him to the side to face Brian fully once more, blocking off your full view of the man and blocking off his change to get a good shot in on you. Aided ever so slightly by a weak kick of Toby's legs, increasing the speed at which you spun him.

_**B A N G !** _

Catching a bullet between the shoulder blades just in the nick of time. Your stomach flipped anxiously at the thought of that bullet hitting you, leaving you brain dead or worse. Leaving the boys way too early when you'd done so much to fight for all of you to be free together. The chance at a better life ripped away from you just on the cusp of your escape. You wanted them to get out, committing murder and arson in their name, momentarily accepting the idea of your demise but now you weren't letting it happen. 

Every bullet to Toby's back was a testament to The Operator's hold on Brian, the one who mothered and fretted over the boy. Protective of him to a parental degree, but now shooting him over and over, uncaring of the bodily harm he was causing him.

Goober wouldn't stop barking, at the incoming inferno, at the crack of shot bullets, at the sudden appearance of who he considered his Papa. As a dog he didn't understand that Brian was trying to shoot you, that the sounds that alerted him were attempts on your life. 

He didn't stop circling you and Toby, arm straight and aim steady. You grunted, digging your heels into the dirt and swinging your loveable meat shield in the way of another bullet. 

_**B A N G !**_

 _"FUCK IT!"_ Tim growled, feet pounding into the dirt for a split second. He'd grown closer and closer to Brian who'd mostly been ignoring his advances up to this point. The Operator deciding to skip on Tim's punishment for now, let the goal oriented Brian get the job done and over with as soon as possible. Having the puppet of a man gunning for you quite literally. 

He was forced to pay attention to Tim, who'd given up on your usual first step, trying to talk things out. Moving on to step two, ass kicking. The hooded man finally paid him some mind in the form of turning the gun on him. Just a bit too late. The guns original target was Tim's forehead but the man had slipped in close, another mistake on The Operator's part. Tim snatching the thick wrist that held onto the pistol, pointing it away from his head with a grunt of effort.

_**B A N G !**_

His arm was just having a terrible day. Two cuts nearly severing off his hand and wrist respectively. A nasty dog bite and a bullet lodged in his upper arm and now another jammed point blank into his shoulder. An angry red mist spraying the air as he grimaced and shuddered. White t-shirt further staining, Tim being forced to feel more agony all for the sake of escape. With grit teeth he pushed through, determination stronger than the desire to take a breather. He may have stopped trying to talk sense into the mind controlled man but he still let out a painfully annoyed, _"REALLY?"_

Brian didn't stop trying dispatch the man. Arm shaking, perhaps Tim's touch being grounding, seeing Tim fighting The Operator's influence making him more willing to fight. Seeing that control can be taken, if he just accepted the support of all of you, if he just accepted that this change would be for the better. Let go of his idea that he was reliant on The Operator for life, **he** was a shithead, not worth fighting for but worth fighting against.

_**B A N G !**_

For the first time, he completely missed. Bullet whizzing just an inch above Tim's shoulder. Only one hand able to function, the same that held tight onto Brian's wrist, Tim only had a handful of options to put a stop to Brian. The first was a knee to the groin, Brian's body only slightly shuddered from the impact but he still stood strong. The Operator's grip tight enough that he was unable to process the cock shot. With no other option, Tim had to use his skills in combat, thinking on his feet, literally. 

Grunting, he jumped as high as he possibly could. Being much shorter than Brian and unable to do it with his fists, he was forced to jump and ram his head into his throat. 

_**"Gah."**_ An electric grunt sounded from the man, making a noise over the static but still shrouded in the forced cloth. He may have been puppeted by The Operator, but he was still human. When humans get hit right in the windpipe, especially with a thick skull, it winds the ever loving shit out of them. His head lulling downward in a recoil, knees slightly buckling as his body let him register the pain in his throat and the kick to the dick. The momentary blip in control gave Tim the chance to further throw off Brian's gun arm. Harshly twisting the man's arm with a scream, using as much strength as he could against him.

_**B A N G !**_

Dirt kicked up from the fresh hole in the ground. Brain's arm twisted round, shaking but still holding the weapon. Processing the pain of skin and muscle stretched beyond reasonable limits. Trying to fight but still gripping loosely onto the weapon. _"Drop it."_ Tim, his leader, long term friend, and comrade commanded.

His fingers loosened, gun sliding slow from his palm. Finally falling from his grip in slow motion, the very second it left his hand, his fist clenched. The Operator grabbing him by the reins and trying to force his hold but it was too late. Tim almost instantly put a foot over the gun as Brian started to jerk his arm back, fighting his hold. The gun was kicked, roughly sliding over to you, right behind Toby's melted and singed converse. 

"(Y/n), get the gun and I- _OOP!"_ Tim crumpled, already weakened by his decimated arm and slit in his side. Brought to his knees with a taste of his own medicine. A below the belt move in the form of a cock shot. Though he was determined to keep you alive, he was not invincible, still susceptible to pain and exhaustion.

Letting go of Brain's arm with a face contorted in pain a grumbled, _"God, fuck."_

Eyes budging from your sockets, scared, watching the man who'd fought so hard be brought to his knees. What if The Operator retook **his** hold of him? Nostrils flaring and hands shaking, you swung Toby to the side to make way. Once more he used his legs to awkwardly side step, taking more of his weight but still leaning on you for support. Groaning as you bent over, lunging for the pistol. The one he used when at your makeshift shooting range, the one you'd used had washed away in the cold depths. 

Tim was still upright, gasping and grunting but still fighting, standing on his knees. That was not enough for The Operator, demanding complete submission that was not given. Not laying down like the tall motherfucker wanted. If he wouldn't kneel himself, then **he'd** make him in the form of Brian socking him right in the nose.

He hit the forest floor hard, crying out a slurred curse that you couldn't quite understand. All you knew was that he was forced onto his back and he probably wasn't going to be getting up anytime soon. Eyes screwed shut while he scowled, needing time to recuperate, unable to help you while he sorted his own shit out. Dealing with pain and The Operator trying to tug on his puppet strings. Good hand clutching his balls, trying to ground himself while Brian turned his attention to you.

Your only defense a pistol and an incapacitated boyfriend as a meat shield. One that you'd pushed to lean on your back in order to pick up the weapon. It was a tactless move, having Toby support himself on your back, it made straightening out and gathering yourself all the more difficult. As you did so, he made a dead sprint for you.

_Oh shit._

A non-vital, that's what you should be aiming for. Maybe not his legs, if you pulled him out of this then he'd need to walk. The gut would slow him the fuck down like it had Tim when he'd already be worn out, dealing with the side affect of exhaustion that came with fighting the static. But you didn't get the time to aim, not even the time to point the gun at the barreling form. 

Smoke rose but that didn't mean it was present. Burning your lungs, having you let out ragged coughs and wheezes throughout the entire ordeal. Your lungs had taken quite the beating, being forced to suck in water, getting winded, being lightly choked, having to intake smoke, the poor organ was burning awfully in your chest. 

It was somewhat of a relief when your fall was cushioned, back not making a heavy impact into the dirt, wind not being completely knocked out of your sails. Though some of your breath had been stolen from you with a two-hundred and something pound man tackling you from the waist, throwing you and Toby back and down into the ground. Tears being forced from your eyes at the sudden impact, the uptick in the buzzing from behind. Toby spurring out wheezes, taking the brunt of the fall for the both of you, air expelled completely from his lungs. 

Burnt to a crisp, a gash in a shoulder, a fat slit in the middle of his wrist, hallucinating, shot five times in the back, and now winded, Toby was unable to move. His movement had already been slowed and stiff but it was growing progress. One currently paused, needing to catch his breath and not loose his shit. The only thing keeping him grounded to reality was you laying atop him.

Goober was beside the three of you, barking and barking. The sound hurting your ears along with multiple firings of bullets, your ears weren't having a good time either. One of them still harshly ringing from a small chunk being completely shot off. He didn't know what to do. Papa on top of Mama, were you play fighting? Why now with the fire crawling closer? Why did you look so hurt? Why couldn't he see Papa's face?

He was sitting on you, straddling your waist just like he had that night in the back of the pickup. Instead of teasingly pulling a rifle off his back, he reached for the gun in your open palm. Dazed but lucid you babbled, "Brian, ple-"

Your head snapped to the side, good ear pressed to Toby's chest. His heart thundering below you as harsh throbbing in your nose had you letting out a sharp cry. It was nostalgic, getting punched so hard in the nose that blood was forced violently out of your nostrils. Feeling odd on your face, definitely off from its original position. Nostrils clogged with blood and pounding painfully, you had to raggedly breathe from your dry mouth. Hot air feeling torturous on your tongue.

He'd pulled his punch. If he hit you full force your teeth would be ten feet away in the dirt. Being on top of you weakened The Operators control, touching you through clothing and the momentary contact with the skin of your face. He was fighting for you as well as _literally_ fighting you. 

Still reeling, you forced your eyes open after they'd been screwed shut in the moment of sudden pain. You felt the tips of his fingers graze your palms as he took the gun from you. Touch lingering for a prolonged second as you took labored breaths, smoke burning as it was forced into your lungs along with oxygen. 

Vocal cords worn from smoke and screams, it'd be the understatement of the century to say that you sounded like complete shit. "We can get outta here."

The gun was dragged from your palm, even though your fingers attempted to close around it, he was still able to take it away. Armed and even more dangerous.

"Find some shitty apartment," Oddly specific, your brand of stupid bullshit even with a gun pointed at your forehead, "Wake up next to each other."

Cold steel was pressed harshly between your eyes, you looking past the business end of the pistol, trying to get to the man behind the mask. The back of your head was pressed into Toby's chest, unevenly rising and falling as he tried to suck in more air. With no bullet in your brain to stop you, you continued with a weak smile, trying to sweet talk your way out of death. You didn't want to think about being forced out of this world, not be there for them as they escaped, recovered, lived on. You were going to do this, these weren't the final words or a desperate and manic crazy ass, these were the sickly sweet admissions of someone who just wanted to be normal as could be.

"I'd try to help you make breakfast." The gun quivered against your skull, the buzz of The Operator surrounding your body. Being emitted from Toby and Brian, but all that mattered was that it wasn't coming from you. As much as **he** wanted to oppress you and make you think you weren't, you were free and you fucking knew it. Now all you had to do was lead them down the right path, "We'd make chocolate chip pancakes and I'd set the stove on fire the second you turn around. Then, you wouldn't talk to me for a whole day." The thought of him being domestically petty had you cracking a smile at him, "And I apologize by writing in your nerd bitch language." You called back to bitter memories, the joking insult having the gun press further into your skull. His finger hovering just above the trigger while his arm shook. He was in there, fighting with all his might, deep down still mildly irked that you called it that.

You huffed out a laugh, (e/c) eyes burning into the circles of red, "Sorry, and then I'd apologize by writing in _binary_. It'd be super shitty 'n broken but you'd still cry over it anyways." Maybe you could actually wrap your head around it one day, write notes back and forth but as of today you still couldn't understand that shit. Maybe you'd be illiterate in binary for the rest of your days, if you were, you'd just apologize normally. 

You took a gamble, after luck had every other gamble fucking you over, you still went for it. Two hands atop one, skin to skin contact that weakened the unseen hold. You didn't lift the gun away just yet, still pressed harshly into your forehead. This was a slow process, he still needed more coaxing out of his trance, "I know you hate change and I'm sorry that I fucked it all up but we can make it better. We can have that future together, Brian. I _want_ that future together with you, I love you, Bumblebee."

Bringing up a better life, change that would be rough at first but could gradually get better, sappy memories of days passed with days to come, a dizzying concoction of serotonin. The pressure on your forehead lessened, you took the liberty of slowly lifting his gun up and away from your brain, up and away from the still raggedly wheezing Toby. Voice changer switching his labored breaths to something more ominous, you had to get that thing off him. In your head it was a physical representation of his binding to The Operator. The shake of his flesh lessening, dying down beneath your touch. 

Good. All you had to do now was get him off of you, grab Toby and Tim and get the fuck out of here. In the process throw his mask to the ground and let it burn. The wildfire had grown ever closer, heat rising and danger increasing. This would be fine, you just had to keep your grounding touch on the two men who were weaker to The Operator's influence. This would be okay, the time to escape this hellish forest was neigh.

His other hand was free to do as it pleased. Untamed by your steady hands, tethered tight to The Operator's hold. Large and encompassing, calloused skin snatching your neck and squeezing. There was no instant crushing of your windpipe, he was still fighting his own body, but not enough. Fingers dug in harshly to your bruised neck, forcing you into silence, hurting you.

He was conflicted over the whole ordeal but he'd seen enough to cast judgement. Though he didn't want to, he felt the simplistic need to protect the person who he always had. From the broken legged anxious mess that lived in a crummy apartment to a murderous and rage filled, still anxious mess, that lived in a cabin in the woods. A cabin that was burning, a new chapter of your life at it's beginning. He wanted to see who you'd become next. For better or for worst, an angry woman's best friend.

Anger, fear, simplistic yet feral emotions drove his open maw onto Brian's wrist. Clamping down with fangs bared, sinking into shaky muscle and not caring about the odd sensation. All Goober gave a shit about was saving you in the only way he could. Head twisting side to side violently, Brian kept his hold on your neck, grip listening with the aggressive jostle. The pain of long teeth and a powerful jaw piercing through the pinpricks, something not of The Operator, the fangs of something currently more capable of protecting you.

His fingers twitched, releasing your throat just enough for his hand to be completely torn away from you. Removing the skin to skin contact, severing the connection that Goober had no idea was necessary. Shaking Brian's limb about, still growling, biting harder and harder. More blood staining his yellowed teeth. Completely unwilling to let up his attack on Brian, turning on him in favor of you. 

Though your hands were still resting on the hand that held his gun, trying to ground him, it was not enough. The Operator wasn't willing to let Brian go as easily. **He** was going to make him fucking suffer for pulling the gun off of your head. The buzz sickeningly increasing under your fingers, he was forced to rip his hand from your grip.

_**B A N G !**_

The screeched yip was heart breaking. Confused pain, his grip on the man's arm loosening in shock and throwing himself back the best that he could. Crying out pathetically as his hit the ground, having buckled under the sudden loss of support from his back right leg. A bullet lodged somewhere in his furry thigh, dark blood staining his wet brown fur. Orange flickering off the blood, a reminder of the incoming flames that you didn't look to. 

_"GOOBER!"_ You cried, eyes budging from your skull. Seeing the boys getting hurt was something you'd become somewhat used to, you knew that at the end of the day they'd be fine. Goober wasn't a proxy, he was breakable, he could bleed out, he could die from the wound. You knew that this wasn't Brian's fault, it was a punishment for his internal struggle. This was of **his** doing, the tall motherfucker, ruining everything as always. You'd show **him.** You'd snatch away his proxies and usher them into a better life. Helping them and letting them help you. With Goober, you wouldn't let him die, you wouldn't let his time run out. He'd been you through almost over a years worth of bullshit but he'd done more for you than most people you'd ever met had. You were stubborn and not letting him go. 

Conscious of your circumstances, Toby's need for touch as he fought off the influence. You put a on hand on his distorted chest, grounding him with your steady palm. Pushing yourself up into an awkward sitting position as Brian sat there. Gun smoking and frozen, hand violently vibrating, gun pointed to Goober's fuzzy forehead. Trying to fight the overwhelming control as best he could but his finger was still wrapped around the trigger. 

You weren't going to loose Goober and you weren't going to let Brian drown in the static. No one else was going to get hurt because of you, this ends here. All because you deemed it, this was your will and you were going to force freedom onto Brian harder then The Operator could oppress. 

The red frown contorted in your fist as you snatched his mask with a scream of, _"I FUCKING LOVE YOU!"_ Pulling it back in a harsh yank, forcing that stupid frown off his face. Fabric flying off his head, revealing his blank expression. That was a good sign, he was upset. 

You threw it back, the horrible thing immediately falling into the fire, it was in a hot semi-circle around the five of you. A loud ' _pop'_ emitting from the fire as the voice changer that had been sewn into the thing met with the heat. The red turned to black while the cotton singed and curled in on itself. The face of Hoodie gone, only Brian remained. 

Chest rising and falling in an exaggerated manner, sweat shining bright on his brow, frozen despite being surround by heat, despite The Operator trying to get him to move. You'd do what **he** could not, inspire him to do your will. The perks of being actually likable and not forcing his life into a hellscape. 

Whining on the floor, crying as best a dog could, the pistol was still pointed to him. Without the even aim that you knew Brian had, without the stiff movements The Operator could force upon him. He just needed another good push toward the finish line that was control. Though it may be temporary, it was enough for now. It would be a massive victory, a step away from the tall motherfucker, away from the horrible present and past, onward to bigger and better things. Like being a barista with a hidden dark past, living in a cheap dingy apartment with all sorts of mystery stains on the carpets. Living not by yourself with just your lovable mutt as a roommate, but with your three boyfriends, no longer murdering and maiming, just trying to live small and be okay.

The hand that tore away the mask, the hand that freed his face, brought itself to his cheek. The hand that was going to help give him the push that he needed. Stubble brushing against your palm as you turned his head. No resistance, no sputtering, just a smooth turn. Eyes turning with his head, desperate hazel irises locked with yours, bloodshot and tear filled. Hurt. Dazed.

"I know you're hurting, I know you don't like change, I know you're scared, I know that I hurt you. I can't promise you that the pain will go away that easily, I can't promise you an incredibly normal life, I can't say for sure if we'll even all get out of here okay but _god fucking damn it_ ," You sniffled, guilt and excitement, "I'm hellbent on leaving with you. Living with you and loving you. I'm sorry that our new life together had to start out so rocky but things'll get better. I'm not sure how we'll do it but I _know_ we can figure it out."

You didn't dare blink, stop the connection between the windows of your souls. Him fighting to make intense eye contact which for him was usually a walk in the park. Once upon a time, his eyes boring into yours was your worst nightmare. He used to be a quietly horrible, overwhelming presence. Now you looked at him and felt like you were burning up with love. Or it was the fire blazing a few feet away, but that didn't change the fact that you loved him so much that sometimes you thought you were going to spill your guts.

He spoke simply, good with his words but tired and worn as the static dissipated beneath your touch, "Okay." Though weak, he smiled, warm and loving. 

You smiled, cheeks hot and red but also caked with blood while your nose angrily throbbed. When you got out of here he was going to have to snap the cartilage back in place. You knew it was going to hurt like a motherfucker and your nose would always be slightly different but strangely enough, you couldn't wait. The first thing you had set in stone post-escape.

From below you, the buzz hitting another low point, Toby convulsed in a violent tic with a grunted, "Poggers."

You giggled as Brian shifted, starting to stand with a huff of amusement. You moved your hand to his shoulder, eventually sliding your hand down his arm and onto the hand that still held the gun. Lowered away from Goober's head, pushed into the first steps toward a better life. 

"Alright, alright, okay," Tim grumbled, shifting as he shakily pushed himself to his feet, stumbling forward a few steps, "Brian I don't wanna do this but I'm gonna- _Oh."_

He pressed the gun into your palm, not trusting himself with the weapon that at this point was _probably_ empty. Pulling you up with his strong hands. You pressing your side to his to keep a comforting touch on him as he pulled up Toby. Putting an arm around his shoulder to support the burnt and bleeding boy, softly muttering a, "Sorry."

"It's cuh-cool." Toby babbled, feet flat on the ground. Somewhat supporting his own weight with the knowledge that all of you were okay, fighting through the bullshit together. 

Tim was pretty worse for wear, bleeding like a motherfucker but blood being constantly regenerated. His bond with The Operator not broken, still tied to the skinny fuck. For once you were glad for the forced connection, it was keeping all of them alive. Only because it was confident it could get them back under it's thumb. You didn't quite know the logistics of getting fired or in their case quitting. Handing in their pink slip with a middle finger. You didn't think about it, it was a heavy topic to delve into when fire wasn't inches away from your bare feet. 

"Huh." Tim hummed, nearly tripping over his own feet as he came to your side. A hand clasped itself on your shoulder as he dazedly said, "Nice hustle."

You couldn't help but crack and uneven grin at him, shoving the gun into the waistband of your jeans. Just as you had trepidatiously this morning, no longer alone.

"What are you," You placed one hand on Brian's back and slid the other behind Tim's back, looking to support him, "My high school gym teacher?" You may have not been the best person to support the man, being quite drained yourself, only having enough adrenaline in your system to keep you going, but Brian was looking to help Toby and hold Goober. He didn't quite have three arms and this was a team effort. No one person would take all the weight. 

"Don't be an ass." Tim chided before hacking up a glob of blood. Another side affect of resisting The Operator's influence. Being right next to a wildfire wasn't helping any of your cases either. Lungs irritated and burning. 

There was no time for lighthearted banter, you all had to get a fucking move on or you'd be toast. But first, Brian had to tackle the task of picking up the dog he shot. Laying in the dirt whining yet baring his teeth dangerously at the man he loved, the man who shot him. He didn't understand the circumstances of mind control. All Goober knew was that Brian hurt him for protecting you, further lowing his simple minded opinion of him. 

Despite the bone in his forearm most likely being absolutely fucked, cracked or broken, Brian still bent down, reaching out a hand to pick up the pup. Growling almost demonically, the dog lunged forward as much as he could. Movement making him yip but he was still determined to bite. Just like Mama. Despite wanting to tear Brian's arm off, leave him with a bloody stump of a shoulder for daring to hurt you, his bite was severely weakened. Whining even while sinking his teeth just barely into Brian's flesh once more.

This did not deter Brian. Even though the fire was inches away from your asses, he was still going to pick up _his and your_ dog. Determined to get him out and make sure that he'd live to see the day where he could find it in his puppy heart to forgive Brian. Knowing Goober, it'd take a week if Brian had dog treats, the little biscuits shaped like bones. Though with your circumstances, you didn't think you'd get your hands on them for a while.

Goober quickly let go of Brian, tired, hurt, inhaling smoke, he just wanted to get out of here. Though that didn't mean that he was going to stop biting at the man. As Brian gingerly picked up the massive dog, he continuously nipped at him weakly. Gnashing teeth trying to make him feel remorse for what he'd done. Ripping and tearing at the dull yellow hoodie, splattered with Tim's blood and soaked with some of his own. Nip by nip, shed by shred, Goober tore the yellow and red fabric away in his mild struggle. Forcing Brian's uniform off of him an revealing a white tank top sticking to his sweat drenched skin. All masks gone, lost to the flames while all uniforms taken off, burned, or shredded. It made you hopeful.

Even though Goober didn't know it, you had a feeling Brian did feel pretty shitty about punching Tim in the balls, winding Toby, coming close to blowing your brains out, and shooting the dog he did nothing but baby. 

He held the mutt somewhat over his broad shoulder, cradling him under his legs. Being as careful as possible with his right hind leg, Goober crying out with every little jostle of the limb. Now the lot of you were moving forward, Tim leaning on you, you keeping a supportive hand on Brian, Brian holding up Toby. A horizontal conga line of comrades, fighters, and lovers. Each of you strong individual in your own ways and together you were stronger. Even with mental fortitude and emotional strength, you were all still in shitty shape all because of one stupidly tall and dumbly named entity.

God, you fucking hated The Operator so much. The one thing you could give the motherfucker begrudging credit for was your meeting with your boys, your unity. The Operator pulling you all together in one of the stupidest moves it could have pulled. Now you were pulling some real morbid fairy tale shit and there was no stopping the lot of you.

Hobbling forth, grunting and panting for clean air, you inquired, "How are you guys doing?"

You cared about them enough to save them from a wannabe god, of course you were going to ask them how they were doing when they were all fucked up.

"Yes." Toby responded, sounding certain of his answer. You'd take that as him being awful but hanging in there.

"Horrible." Tim honestly responded.

Goober continued to whine as Brian moved forward, the man had been very quiet through the whole ordeal. You were hoping it was him just focusing on the task of staying upright, staying in control, and not the dreaded silent treatment. That or he could just be currently non-verbal, you couldn't imagine how irritating the obnoxiously flickering flames were for him on top of the crippling stress of the situation around him.

You got a quiet response after a few minutes of forward movement, at that point you accepted that you probably wouldn't get one. So instead of worrying all about that, you focused on the forest ahead. How the trees started to thin out a couple hundred feet ahead. The edge of the their old stomping grounds, soon to be nothing but ash. The confines of a horrible place that housed horrible people, moving onward to settle into somewhere else, hopefully being a little less shitty. "I'll teach you binary."

Things left unsaid though mental exhaustion and the fact that he was probably pretty pissed at you. Even if you did set off a change for the better in motion, you did it recklessly, incredibly in character for you. No 'I love you', though you knew he did love you very fucking much. You don't just not let someone tenderly hold you and guide you out of mind control and not love them. He'd say it again when he was in a better head space. His offer was a way of saying that he believed that you could all get out. That he wanted you to write him little notes in his nerd bitch language. Doubts shaken and all in. 

"I'd like that." You smiled sweetly at him, getting a slight uptick at the corners of his lips. 

Your future together was close ahead. Just a couple hundred feet more and you'd be out of the woods, literally. That didn't mean that the ordeal would be done though. You still had to drag your sorry asses somewhere safe enough to collapse in a heap and sleep for thirteen hours. Wake up and keep dragging yourselves forward, destination unknown and feet bleeding. 

There was still something that made you anxious through your excitement. The ever present buzzing, the fact that they were so grievously wounded but still upright, it told you that they were still tethered to The Operator. The watchful and possessive entity had yet to show it's ugly head. Things had gone pretty shitty so far but you'd taken your boys from it's grip somewhat, you didn't expect for your final stretch to go very smoothly but you hoped to god that it would.

But if it didn't, if **he** decided to show up, you were going to give a him hearty and victorious, _"FUCK YOU!"_


	57. 56 - Pussy Is God

**NSFW Mentions**

This was it, the final stretch. No further burns to be had if you kept up your pace. Maybe there would be more fighting if they fell under control once more, but you were sure of your abilities to give them a helping hand. You were sure that they'd help their comrades out of The Operator's bony grip. It was a terrifying thought to be attacked again but you'd been through this fucking much already. You could take a few more broken bones and busted cartilage with a bloody grin. 

A smile was plastered on your face while irritating smoke infiltrated your lungs. Coughing and bending forward, a soft mist of blood was forced from your throat. You wondered how long that would last, the symptoms of rejection. Their symptoms of being exposed to The Operator for so long or symptoms of being proxies. You didn't fucking know the circumstances of this shit, just that the coughing sucked and you hoped it wouldn't bother you too long.

All you could focus on was the future only a couple hundred feet ahead. A thinning tree line that led to the same road that Brian drove you down on your date. The same road that had a fork in it, him taking the route of lonely isolation instead of heading to the city in the distance. A safe space was all that you needed, a dingy little refuge. Showing up in a city with severely injured men, looking like complete shit, wasn't the hottest idea. Maybe you all could just rest in the city limits, sit in an empty alleyway for awhile. Catch your breath, take a nap, start the healing process. Be next to a raccoon infested trashcan without having to eat fuzzy meat or rotten banana peels.

Not if, but _when_ you made it that far, you hoped you could quickly help your fuzzy friend. It'd be painful to watch him whimper and try to writhe away, but the bullet hole would have to be dealt with. Maybe pulling it out with the most sanitary thing you could find and cauterizing it somehow. You didn't know, you just wanted him to be okay. 

You were still surrounded by the static of The Operator the boys still buzzing like vibrators. Still tethered, still having to fight for control to simply walk forward. Walking out the forest in multiple pieces didn't mean that they were free. You didn't know if they'd ever be truly free. If control would last long, if they wouldn't be teleported away, stolen from your clutches. You didn't know anything for sure you just knew that right here, right now, they were with you as much as they could be and that fucking rocked.

People say that things always get worse before they get better. Your life story had been a wild testament to how things could always get exponentially worse. Your life thrown into disarray years ago and you'd been tumbling downhill ever since.

Wow, you kinda peaked in high school. By normal means that is. A worse person than the you who sat on another girls bed, saying soft admissions of love and hands blood free. But now you had three boyfriends, blood on your teeth, a sharper tongue, and a large kill count, you weren't ashamed to admit it but you thought you were a lot cooler than you were in high school. No longer a pussy who runs and hides, now a mean motherfucker with fellow murderers who won't leave your side.

The buzzing that emitted from them only got worse as you walked. Grunting, growling, starting to drag their feet. Slowing down with the fire so close behind wasn't an option; you had to get them back up to speed, but no matter how much you tried to push on Brian's back to speed him up or walk a bit faster while holding onto Tim, they wouldn't pick up the pace. They _couldn't_ pick up the pace.

You were as fine as you could be with a broken nose, a chipped ear, years worth of trauma, and a bit of lung damage to try to recover from. They were shaking while you were completely fine. With rejection came cleanliness, the tether broken from your will to be too troublesome. If **he** could retake control of you, you wouldn't doubt that **he** would. Try to reconnect the bindings you'd snapped but **he** didn't, maybe because once the connection had been severed it could not be reconnected. There is no reconsideration, once you're free, you're free for good. But that didn't mean **he** would fuck off, still holding onto _your_ boys. They were literally not out of the woods yet.

Behind you, blackened trees were groaning, cracking and falling to the scorched earth with deafening crashes. Fire slogging itself forward, the heat felt like it was going to burn the jeans off your ass without you even being alight yet. The four of you stopped. You could have kept on walking but you weren't going to leave them behind.

"Come on!" You gruffly encouraged. They didn't budge, teeth audibly chattering, Goober whining with more of the movement, not understanding what was happening but whatever it was sucked a bag of dicks for the poor guy. 

**He** was throwing more bullshit at you. Trying to retake the reins, though they'd been stopped in the tracks of their escape, they didn't converge in violently on you. On your side, not wanting to be forced onto **his.** You were an anchor to the earth that refused to let go, weigh them down and keep them on this shit hole of a planet. 

_There **he** was, the tall motherfucker. _

Standing in the limelight that was the thinning trees, bathed in soft morning light. You couldn't believe all the shit that happened and it was probably not even half passed ten. What a fucking day, one that was far from over. 

**He** was standing in your way, tugging at the tethers. One last attempt to keep them in line, desperation. There was something about how hard **he** was willing to go in order to kill you and keep them in the burning forest that was telling. Like the mental steps taken of escaping such dire circumstances, leaving territory they'd always seen as _it's_ would be such a victory for the boys that **he** had an idea that they couldn't be beaten into submission so easily anymore. It was a stubborn thing, a horrible parasite that didn't want to give up it's hosts. 

Trying to get them to kill you or wait for the fire to catch up to the lot of you. Knowing you'd stay behind and drag them through the flames while your mortal body deteriorated. Either way, it wanted you _fucking dead._

Now, you may have been a jaded, evil sunnovabitch but you were way less evil than the twink. You had plenty of room to criticize and insult. You could bite your tongue, focus on the task of encouraging the boys with commands to keep moving. There was an option to try and ignore it all together but in your eyes that wasn't a valid option. Ignoring a problem would let it fester, you had to face it head on like you had with everything else. **He** was a part of your world as much as you hated it. You'd get in one last biting word without being punished, for real this time.

You'd pushed the boys this far but they'd yet to insult it. Too scared to stand up until now, they still needed to take this step. You'd start first, take the first step verbally and literally. One step, one foot in front of the other while they stayed froze, leading by example.

 _"You look like,"_ You let out a rattling cough, smoke burning your lungs as the heat was growing behind you, _"You have a fucking chode."_

An eldritch entity probably had no use for a dick, you'd bet your bottom dollar the motherfucker was smooth like a Barbie doll down there. You hadn't ever exactly seen it without its crisply pressed business pants off. Yet there was an energy to it, rancid, vile, a horrible creature. If it had a dick, it would be absolutely minuscule. While you, also vile but way cooler and understanding basic respect, had the energy of having an absolute monster cock.

It didn't budge, neither did the boys. Yet they fought the buzz, holding themselves together and not letting it get worse. You couldn't just berate the skinny fuck, they needed support too.

"It'll be okay!" It was basic but effective, "Keep moving, we can do this."

It was not much more than a unanimous shuffle. First Tim, then Brian, lastly Toby who tried to step forward but nearly fell over his shaking legs. Knees threatening to buckle but Brian held him up, supporting the boy so he could keep on moving. 

"Good!" You barked, leading the charge with a single step forward. A foot closer to freedom, a foot closer to it, **he** who blocked your path and tried to impede your progress. **He** who could not be stopped but **he** who could be left in the dust. They surged forward, labored and slow. Progress was progress but it wasn't linear. They all stopped mid step, whining out as the buzzing upticked. 

_"Oh, fuck off you will you!?"_ You angrily barked at the business formal, faceless fuck. Another angry call out, switching back and forth between supportive life coach and degrading bully.

Your insults inspired and further encouraged them. There wasn't much worse that it could do at this point, they'd already stepped over the line. There was no point in hiding how they felt anymore when defying it so.

Objectively the strongest against The Operator's influence, life ruined and terrified of the thing, Tim continued the stream of insults, _"Eat shit,"_ He took a dragging step forward while practically hacking up a lung before continuing, _"And die."_

"You fucking tell **him**!" You barked with a nastily mocking grin. It hadn't moved, staying stubbornly in place. 

Getting close to the thing wasn't at the top of your list of things you wanted to do but it was in the way, you had no other choice. There was also the feeling of a rush brought on by standing up for yourself and seeing them do the same. Facing your problem head on, strength in numbers. 

Spurred on by you, the love of his life, and Tim the man who helped him through the years, Toby opened his mouth, " _YOU'RE FUH-FUCKING DUMB!"_

He'd never been one for intricately worded insults there was also the fact that he was fucked up beyond belief. Thoughts muddied and slowed but still lucid enough to join the bandwagon. 

Brian said nothing yet he still stepped forth, helping Toby along. The lot of you jankily stumbling forward. Slowed by the buzzing they had to fight. At this rate the fire would catch up to all of you before you reached the threshold of freedom. There had to be something that could get them more fired up, something that would have them more confident. Something that would lessen the buzz, allowing them to move faster without putting almost all of their mental energy toward not ripping your throat out between their teeth.

There were no punches to throw at it, all you had was your raspy voice and comforting touch. So you used one of your weapons of mass destruction, the hand on Brian's back rubbing firm circles. Supportive and uplifting. Helping him jump the hurdle that was insulting the thing that gave him a second chance at life. Now he was going to follow you, the person that was giving him a third.

He was shaking horribly but he melted into your touch. He took in a hissing inhale, tensing and bracing himself to speak. When he finally did after five long steps, it was delivered as loudly as his voice would allow, _"I hate you."_

His hate was finally enough. People say that hate gets you nowhere but the word was currently having you and the boys picking up your stride. Hate really was a strong word, powerful and effective. Yet it wasn't purely hate moving you all forward, it was love and bonds thicker than the chains that held onto them.

Though the pace hadn't picked up to the original weak power walk, it was still better than standing still or moving at a snails pace. They still quaked, flesh buzzing but their will lessened the horrible effect. Each step was a challenge to **his** authority and **he** couldn't do a goddamn thing about it. Well, there was the tethers and bindings the boys couldn't seem to break on their own or together with you. **He** was the only one that could let them go. They couldn't quit. Maybe they couldn't even be 'fired' but they could purposely not show up to work. Skipping meetings and not giving a shit when their awful eldritch boss tried to chew them out. Even if they weren't officially let go, still proxies, they could keep on fighting the influence and act as if they were unemployed. 

Fifty feet is what you'd guess, the distance that the five of you stood away from **him**. Away from the exit that it was trying to block you off from. Progress wasn't linear, with the proximity the buzzing got worse once more.

_"Fuck."_ Tim groaned, good arm that had been slung around your shoulder for stability twitched and jittered. His hand harshly gripping you for support.

"Uuuhhhnnn," Toby grumbled before violently twitching, "What thhh-the sssshuh-shit?" 

"Toby," Brian's voice laced with concern for the boy, "Hold onto me."

Something was wrong. You didn't know what but there was something off. There was an unspoken rule of not letting go of each other but Brian saying it aloud. Tim cursing, Toby's confusion, the sudden case of the even more violent shakes. You didn't know what the shit was going on but you weren't letting The Operator get away with this nonsense any longer.

Then it hit you, close proximity was something that seemed to make **his** hold stronger. But there was also the ability that it rarely showcased of being able to fucking teleport. There was no official confirmation of **him** trying to teleport them but it was a very real possibility. It had been done to you when close to **him** at the river, when you challenged it in the woods all those weeks ago, when Tim first stood up to it and got taken away. Only to be returned hours later, pajamas torn and bloody. Looking like he'd been impaled over and over yet without any actual flesh wounds. Being teleported was never a good thing, it spelled out severe punishments. 

At the river you'd fought it, the teleportation that kept putting you back in place but you kept on resurfacing. The buzzing under your skin was it trying to teleport you once more you could suppose. But you didn't go, you didn't budge anymore then you broke the tether. You were the only living proof they had that they could stay grounded, not be taken away.

You had to vocalize something, "Hey!" A shout directed at them and not the dreadful twink, loud and obnoxious over the buzzing, "Stay with me here. Well like, not literally stay in place and I don't really wanna be in a forest fire, but you need me don't you? Don't leave me, I need you guys." You rambled annoyingly before wetly coughing, blood hot on your tongue. 

It wasn't a weakness to rely on others for support like it had tried to make you think. At first trying to isolate you into submission then trying to extort your love for them, making affection into your downfall. You'd refused to let it taint love for you like that. Your words were strengthening, empowering for yourself and a push that they needed. 

"God," Tim growled, the quake of his flesh slowly started to dissipate with another step forth, "You're so fuckin' corny."

"Corn." Toby parroted in a wheeze, talking through the ringing in his ears. A stupid babble but it was something that kept him here.

Brian nodded, trying to help the boy while trying to keep himself here but mostly to try and help him, "Thank you, Toby." The meaningless conversation was helping, lessening the shake, upping morale.

"No puh-problem." Toby weakly responded.

You had to keep it going, make sure they stayed, "That," Speaking, staying strong, "Was very poggers of you Toby."

"Oh my fuckin' god." Tim wheezed through the smoke and absurdity. Catching onto the drift that talking and walking was the way to go. Move away from the fire toward a wannabe god and safety.

Brian didn't interject again, jaw locked and nose heavily bleeding, but his gaze was not fixated up ahead at the tall obstacle. Instead he looked to Toby, to Tim, to you. To him the sight of his found family was more grounding than talking and that was just fine. Whatever he needed to do to stay here was just fine in your eyes, smiling softly at him when his eyes met yours.

Forty feet to the exit. Progress slow, but you couldn't be stopped. Nothing could hurt you, the fire wasn't going to catch up in time to burn your ass to a crisp. The Operator was trying and failing to teleport them, to control them, there was fucking nothing it could do.

**_CRACK!_**

Your head snapped up toward the sound and your breath hitched. A massive thick tree was suddenly feet above you. Black and ablaze. Crackling and groaning as it fell in a horizontal line that would crush all of you if you didn't get a fucking move on. The petty fucking twink teleported an entire tree above all of you. A last ditch effort to have them under it's thumb and you dead as a door nail.

_"MOVE!"_ You barked, looking back ahead. Adrenaline spiking once more and throwing yourself forward, dragging Tim along and pushing Brian forward. Feet pounding against the foliage as the angry roar of unnaturally falling fire fell from the sky grew louder and louder. Breaking past other trees branches as it descended. Forcing them out of the way, determined to squish you like a fly. You may have all been in piss poor shape but you had mostly working legs and The Operator decided to drop the thing high enough that the lot of you were able to run out of the way just in the nick of time. 

_**CRASH!**_

A wave of hot air fanned your back, blowing harshly though your clothes. Searing embers throwing themselves at you, the singeing awful but minuscule burns in the back of your flannel. Hissing, you took a second to glance over your shoulder as flaming chunks of wood clattered off the tree, some of them whizzing above your head. A smaller piece pelted the back of your bare heel, making you yip and jump for a moment. Though you definitely got the best of the injuries, you still had a good idea that you wouldn't be walking out of this without a couple of scars.

It was like an over sized cylindrical piece of firewood. Huge and supporting a massive wall of flames. Jesus fucking Christ, that giant thing almost crushed you all.

**_CRACK!_**

Uh-oh. Looking up once more you found that there was another flaming line of charred wood descending from the heavens once more. This time though it wasn't as high up. Less time to escape. Shit.

Just because the odds were against you didn't mean that you were going to stop or shut the fuck up.

" _HOLY SHIT!"_ It was cathartic to scream, words fueling you to press forward. Though the soles of your feet were bleeding, pebbles embodied in your flesh and with first degree burns, they weren't completely shattered just yet. As long as you could walk, you'd keep on going.

_**CRASH!**_

Last night you got your ass beat in the best way possible. You'd been ignoring the mild soreness throughout the traumatic morning so far but that pain was harshly reignited as the second tree smashed into the ground. A blazing slab of bark throwing itself off of the trunk that you all narrowly avoided, throwing itself right onto your ass cheek with a cracking ' _slap'!_

Adults spanking children as a form of punishment was something that happened quite often. Yet you never expected for an eldritch entity, who had to be much older than twenty-one, to spank you. With every passing day of torment provided by **his** hand, your hatred for **him** grew and grew, but that was just cruel and unusual punishment. Though it was definitely unintentional as the tall fucks target was your entire body, wanting your skull crushed, it didn't feel that way. It was you projecting human traits onto it, stupid and petty ones. Still, hurt like a motherfucker. Your run stuttering as you cried out, " _MY ASS! ARE YOU FUCKING SERIOUS DUDE?"_

The boys were huffing and puffing, all of you running at different speeds. Trying to keep up and trying to slow down while the others dragged behind. An odd attempt at unison that didn't work too perfectly but it was good enough as the exit was thirty feet away. 

Toby babbled, trying to keep himself upright while he was being practically dragged along by Brian. Kicking his legs weakly at the speed of a power walk.

"Sssuh-serious about what nuh-now?" Not really seeing what happened to you as his gaze was all over the place, looking to anything that caught his eye. 

Tim was red faced from the heat but he felt you jump in his grip. He got a glimpse of the impact, he knew what happened. He knew damn well why your ass was already sore. Even while running for freedom he was still himself, bashful and unwilling to admit that he was a sexual deviant. He huffed with a hacking cough, just glancing away for a second. Cute as fuck even in an end of days scenario.

**_CRACK!_**

Both of your eyes were up again, the shit eating grin upon your face faded as another thick trunk was teleported over your heads. Closer to the ground, maybe above fifteen feet above and falling fast. 

"Oh! Fuck!" Toby exclaimed, you snapped your head to him. The horrible crackle of incoming wood and flame having your eyes bulging out of your skull. His foot had caught itself on a root and he was going to fall face first on the ground. Right under where the incoming trunk would be. Stuck crushed, and being forced under **his** thumb.

Brian turned, sliding his hand under the boys armpit and slinging him over his broad shoulder with a grunt of effort.

"Huh?" Toby dazedly hummed as Brian's shoulder dug into his stomach, partially winding him and having him violently cough up blood on Brian's sweaty tank top. The stains didn't matter to Brian at all though, he wore the stupidest shit all the time and he'd been murdering people for a living for quite awhile. A large hand was placed on the boy's twisted skin, holding him steady while Brian picked up the pace without Toby's dragged feet to impede him. Yet not so fast as to leave you and Tim in the dust.

No man left behind.

_**CRASH!**_

The burnt bark grazed the back of your heel, hotly snatching thick layers of skin away from your foot. You let out a pained screech, stumbling forward as splinters straight out of hell ripped through your jeans and pierced the backs of your legs. Nothing too big to have you unable to walk or even cause a limp but that shit still fucking hurt and it had you reeling. 

You were pulled upright by Tim, strong hand on your shoulder and giving you a tight lipped smile.

"Thanks Timbert!" You gave him a stupid smile even while chunks of blazing wood whizzed passed your head. Though hell and back, you'd keep on smiling.

"Anytime!" He shouted over the roar of the hellfire behind the both of you. Chapped lips broken out into a toothy grin. Despite this being the end of the world as he knew it, not having been normal-ish for years, he was still happy. Happy at the idea of freedom, being so sweetly close, getting to leave with Brian and Toby, and now you, someone he loved. Finding love in a hopeless place and then escaping said hopeless place was something better to him then nine cups of espresso at three in the afternoon. 

Toby suddenly interjected, bouncing on Brian's shoulder, "I th-thuh-think I'm gonn- _BLLLEEEEH!"_

You glanced over to the two men, feet throbbing and lungs screaming but at least you didn't have a mix of deep red and gross tan projectile vomited down the side of your torso as well as an entire pant leg. This mornings pancake breakfast coming back with an angry vengeance, mixing with the blood that The Operator's presence forced one to hack up.

"Oh Jesus," You knit your sweaty brows, watching Toby's head lull while a loose trickle of vomit dribbled passed his lips, "Are you guys okay?"

Toby only groaned, needing a second the regather himself. Probably dizzied by the buzz and being carried like a bag of flour. Brian's eyelids twitched ever so slightly, no response other than that. You'd bet any money that he was in sensory hell. Over heated, surrounded by flickering flames, now covered in vomit that smelled of sickly sweet syrup and stomach acid. Absolutely putrid. 

Twenty feet. 

It was close, the exit from the soon to be soiled earth. Already tainted by who and what resided there, the things done in this place, the people killed. That also meant that The Operator was close, unmoving, not wanting for you to pass. Which was honestly kind of dumb, you could just walk around **his** lanky ass. **He** was the only thing in the way of your straight forward path to freedom. The quickest way out. 

_VVVVVVVVVVVRRRR!_

What was that?

Mostly staying quiet, it was a shock to you when Brian suddenly barked out an order, _"Duck."_

You didn't see any of the spitefully horrible animals in your path. That could only mean one thing, something was coming. You had no idea what was but when the ever astute and observant Brian told you to duck, you fucking duck.

You followed Brian's example of basically throwing himself on the forest floor, sliding over dirt and weeds. Onto his side as to not crush Goober or Toby, the two making noises of surprise as they hit the ground with Brian.

**VVVVVVVVVVVRRRR!**

You kept your arm around Tim as you threw yourself to the floor in a pounce, him coming down at your side. You hadn't shut your lips as you fell, small chunks of dirt flying into your mouth as your chest broke your fall. One arm trying to keep itself on Brian while the other were occupied with grounding Tim. Coughing and sputtering out the dry filth, sliding somewhat forward. Something incredibly and deafeningly loud flew inches above your flat body, making your heart leap in your chest.

**_VVVVVVVVVVVRRRR!_**

You only glanced toward the sound, looking the to massive fireball. Tim's hand came to the back of your skull, forcing your face into the dirt just as the huge mass flew right by The Operator. **Him** momentarily disappearing from **his** spot, avoiding the thing. A bright flash of white and orange erupting as it was thrown into a tree.

**_D O O M !_**

You didn't get to see the result of the flash, what exactly it was that was thrown into the wood. All you knew was that your ears were obnoxiously ringing and even with your face in the dirt, there were still a few seconds of bright white light that you could just barely make out. The earth violently quaking from the impact. Bark cracking, branches snapping, shards of flaming material flying every which way. Hardily audible over the ringing clatter that made you feel like you were at the epicenter of an earthquake. 

Whatever it was that flew through the air screeched as it did, some hard pelts of whatever it was grazing the top of your head. Leaving shallow but long cuts across your scalp. Seriously, what the actual fuck was that? If Tim hadn't shoved your face into the dirt, your head could have been with it, the stinging cuts and shaking earth telling you whatever it was would have cut your head clean off.

" _ARE YOU OKAY?!"_ Tim practically shouted in your ear, shifting beside you to prop himself up on his good arm. You assumed it was safe enough to bring your head up from the ground if Tim had too. There was also the fact that you hadn't felt the quick stings of your flesh being torn at for roughly three seconds. That didn't mean that it was over but there wasn't enough time to lay in the dirt and make sure that everything was completely safe. The fire behind was catching up and you didn't doubt that another tree trunk would be teleported above you any second now.

**_CRACK!_**

Speak of the devil.

You moved but not completely of your own volition. Tim threw himself to his feet, Brian promptly doing the same. A massive hand snatching the back of the flannel he'd gifted to you before running, lifting you and dragging you forward. Not strong enough the hoist you over his shoulder like Brian had with Toby and without a second working arm to bridal carry you. So instead, he held you like a fucking dumbbell. The worlds stupidest and also most heroic farmers carry. You didn't have time to run for yourself before the ground shook violently beneath you once more. 

_**CRASH!**_

You could feel it through Tim's closed fist on your back. The momentous shudder that shook his entire body worse than the weakening buzz ever could. A flash of orange light shining on the ground quickly passing below you, that one had been closer than the others. Falling so fast that a non-proxy probably wouldn't have been able to get out in time. You were glad that Tim had your back, quite literally.

You finally responded to his question of okayness, _"Never better!"_

He lifted you upright and gave you a few seconds of regaining your footing before letting the flannel go. His arm quickly found your shoulder once more, coughing and leaning into you. He may have been your hero but he was still fucked up. He couldn't carry you completely out of here. Still, it was only common courtesy to give a, "Thanks for saving my ass." After someone saves you from being crushed to death.

You placed a hand on Brian's back, remembering that he needed support too. Glancing to the man who's hazel eyes were drenched in a bright orange hue, a flickering up ahead where your path had originally been flame free.

Following his gaze you found something awful yet annoyingly cinematic. Black suit framed by a golden glow, trees once tall taken down and alight. Leaving **him** as the tallest thing in view, looking down at you while thick dark plumes of gray emitted from the source of the fireball. Laying in a decimated heap a few feet behind **him**. In the red and orange light that was constantly shifting, large parts of the thing strewn about your path, you couldn't really tell what it was. All you knew it that it was teleported from behind at high speeds, thrown toward the route of escape, the tall fuck too pussy to take whatever it was to the chest so **he** momentarily popped out of existence only to return when the thing exploded on impact with a tree. 

Who the fuck was **he** , Michael Bay?

Your straight forward path wasn't so straight forward anymore. That didn't mean that there was no way out, all of you just had to make a large detour around the destruction. It'd take more time to get out of the hellscape of a forest but hopefully the fires on both sides wouldn't close in. Hope. The thing you'd been placing all your bets on all morning. You believed that it wouldn't fail you now.

There was an unspoken agreement between the lot of you to veer off your original trail. Take a sharp turn to the left, run alongside a long tree trunk, forced to fall from whatever it was that exploded. The entire time, running, coughing, hoping, **he** hadn't moved anything but his head. Slowly following your every movement with the skin covered sockets. You honestly didn't know if the thing could see somehow or just acted strangely human, either way it was creepy and only strengthened your resolve to get out of this place. Leave **him** in the ashes of ruin. Though you knew leaving the forest that was like a symbolic representation of being trapped as a full fledged proxy wouldn't stop everything completely. Honestly, it'd be weird if things instantly got to be that easy and you didn't know if you'd even like a life so simple. Then again, all the boys were severely mentally ill and traumatized but hey, so were you. Recovery would take forever and being completely normal would be nice, but what's life without a little bit of weird spice?

You didn't want too much of it though. It'd just be fun and cool if in the ensuing freedom you'd get to shove both your fists up The Operators bony ass.

You got your answer for what the source of the mystery explosion was as you ran over a broken side mirror. Most of the glass gone and metal bent, but you knew where it was from. Brian's motorcycle. You couldn't believe this shit. **He** teleported an entire fucking motorcycle, on fire, at you. Man, the twink really did hate you.

**_CRACK!_**

Jesus Christ, again?

You didn't even bother to look up this time, just continuing to run ahead. Only to be yanked to the side as Brian leaped to the side as Tim shouted, "Watch it!" 

_**CRASH!**_

Another shake of the earth below, another flaming tree dropped from above. This time though it was put right in front of you. Motherfucker was hoping you wouldn't look, hoping you'd run under and get crushed. Yet you weren't all because Tim actually used his eyes. There was a secondary use for dropping the tree where it did. It further elongated the debris you all had to run around to get to your escape. Giving it more time to try new tactics, to teleport more trees. You'd been one lucky sonnovabitch but if **he** kept on stalling, you'd eventually run out of time to escape the forest.

Something had to be done about **him**. The boys were unarmed beside Toby who had a hatchet embedded in his wrist. He was the only one skilled enough in order to throw it with any accuracy and he was currently on Brian's shoulder, burnt to a crisp with vomit caking his lips. He wasn't in any shape to throw the thing. You'd tried to directly hurt the skinny fuck anyway, it didn't work your bullet just disappeared. There had to be something that you could be done that would be just as terrible as feeling the disorienting buzz.

Then you saw it. Right beside **his** smooth head. A perfect opportunity, if you were as much as an excellent shot as Brian was you could get it. The thing was, Brian was also in bad shape, experiencing sensory overload and just trying to keep himself together. Both hands occupied and not to be trusted with a gun. He nearly brained you a few minutes ago, you weren't going to give him the fucking gun. Tim was a horrid shot and he only had one arm to shoot with. Aim not as steady as Brian's, unable to shoot one handed. Toby was even worse and delirious from overheating. One time he begged you and Brian to come shooting with you. Brian let him tag along but he told you to stand behind a tree twenty feet away. You didn't have to worry about a thing because he aimed at the cans with the safety on and thought his gun was broken. There was also the spine chilling time you gave Toby your gun and he went absolutely ape shit. 

It was up to you. 

"Tim," You couldn't speak firmly or confidently, you were unsure but you were going to try, "I'm going to take my arm off you in a sec. Can you deal without the support for a bit?" 

"Yeah." He immediately responded, "Just don't do anything too stupid." Even if he wasn't too confident that he could, he had a feeling you had one of your famously half-baked plans in mind. 

"Oh baby," You slid your arm off his back and to the waistband of your pants, "I'm all about stupid." You weren't like Brian, you couldn't shoot with one hand. Yet you wanted to keep a hand on him for support from the buzz, "Brian-"

"Do it." He immediately replied. He may be pissed at you for risking your neck and hating that you took such risky chances, but all of your heads were on the chopping block together. Any advantages that you even had the chance to take had to be taken. 

"Yeah mmmuh-maus," Toby yapped from Brian's shoulder, not knowing what you were doing but supporting you anyway, "You cuh-can do i-it!" You took your hands off Brian's vibrating back, glancing at Toby on his shoulder who was burnt yet sickly pale. Leaning on you for support was Tim. Even though you were nervous, you were going this for the men you loved. The dirty, smelly, evil, men that you loved.

Two shaking hands grabbed the gun, carefully holding the metal, having shot multiple rounds recently had it grossly warm. Slick with sweat from your palms and Brian's, you gripped the thing tight. It was your literal lifeline at this point. 

You weren't too confident that the pistol had too much ammo left in it. Brian shot the thing seven or so times, you didn't quite remember but either way, it was a lot. It was a small target, up high, and you were running. Most of the people you'd filled with holes were pretty stagnant, incredibly close, or both. You rose the gun, shut your non dominant eye, trying to keep your aim steady.

_**B A N G !**_

A complete miss. There was no sudden action that caused the miss, you just weren't a fucking god at shooting. You took in a deep breath, trying to calm your racing heart. You had to do this before **he** tried to drop another tree on your silly ass. Maybe it was the lack of spiteful words, you thought ' _to hell with it_ ' and opened your mouth, " _FUCK YOU!"_

_**B A N G !**_

Another miss but at the very least your aim was steadier. Better but not good enough. **He** was still looking at you. Unable to penetrate your mind and figure out what in the ever loving fuck you were doing. Good. You hoped it liked surprises and a good taste of its own medicine. You thought your earlier words were pretty good but it wasn't enough for you. Not enough spice, not enough hate, not enough degradation.

_"FUCK OFF, CUNT!"_

_**B A N G !** _

_Third times the charm._

A thin hole tore though the mass of tan, right at its stem. Rocking the thing back and forth a few times as full support from its stem was violently taken away from it. After a few swings, the stem gave and the awakening nest was plummeting to the ground.

It was a sight to behold.

The large hive mind that burst from the tan as soon as it made contact with the ground was alarming. Thankfully not falling into the flames. It was like a black shifting miss, a hive of angry, agitated, now homeless bees. 

You could hardly hear it, the somewhat familiar but beautiful sound. It was so close to the buzz The Operator generated, the synthetic sound. It always reminded you of a bust open nest of angry bees but faintly hearing the real thing over the flames, you realized the real deal was different. It faded in and out with the movements of the hive, growing softer or louder depending on how close the mass was, it could change, it didn't come with the feeling of violation, it was a living thing made up of multiple organisms. 

"Holy shit!" Tim marveled as the enraged hive instantly converged on The Operator. Surrounding **him** in a black and yellow cloud-like mass of angry bees. Being vaguely human shaped and nearby had the bugs placing simplistic blame on **him.** Surrounding **his** blank face, swarming and defiantly trying to sting **him**. Giving it a taste of it's own loud, obnoxious medicine. Though you had a feeling whatever bees stung the thing would disappear or not hurt **him** at all. Though it'd be nice to hurt the tall prick, you didn't know if it could feel pain or be hurt at all. Either way, pain wasn't what shooting down a bees nest was about. It was about distracting, disorienting, doing what **he** had done to you and the boys. Minus the mind control, you couldn't quite do that.

It seemed to work as no flaming trees came to impede your path as you finally rounded the trunk of the tree. Running ahead toward freedom, shoving the gun into your pants and supporting Tim once more. Putting a hand on Brian's back and looking to the still conscious Toby. There was a noticeable difference in all of them. The shake dissipating to nothing but a slight tremor, like a phone on vibrate in their pockets. Tim started to run faster, falling into better pace with you while Brian readjusted Toby. Cradling him halfway across his chest with one arm while holding Goober who'd ceased his bite filled struggle Toby was able to lift his head, giving you a boyish smile with charred teeth and contorted skin.

You glanced to The Operator, bees swarming so **his** white head was barely visible. The lot of you close to the exit, about to jump over the mental hurdle that would change your lives. This was it. Though you were sure this wasn't the last time **he'd** see you and you meddling dog too after ruining so much for **him** but this was your last big confrontation with The Operator. **He** deserved a loving goodbye. _"LATER, YA GIANT FUCKING PUSSY!"_

They realized this too with giant smiles upon their faces that had your stomach full of butterflies. Just like earlier, came the stream of individual insults.

Tim following your lead, " _GO FUCK YOURSELF!"_ Scream sounding deeply cathartic and joyous. 

Toby turned his temporarily semi-bald head to The Operator, cackling out through his disorientation, " _SSSSUH-SUCK A FUCK!"_

Overwhelmed and tired, he still wanted to get a word in. Simple yet with a small almost unnoticeable smile, _"Fuck you."_

You felt intense pride in all of them, at yourself, for what you'd done. Be stupid yet resourceful. Free those who though they could not be freed. Maybe it was your charisma, your attitude, your encouragements, your undying spite, the fact that they all loved you and each other so deeply. Yet you couldn't help but put a lot of the credit on yourself. Though their individual fighting spirits got them through so much; not becoming mindless husks of people in the years of being proxies and able to keep a hold of themselves through the entire ordeal that this morning had been. They did a lot of work but you were the spark to further reignite the fire in them, you also set down the gasoline, brought the lighter. You couldn't help but think, _pussy so good that they stood up to a wannabe god, an eldritch being of many torments, laughing in it's face._

There was no vengeful increase of the buzz in your boys. The edge of the forest less than ten feet ahead. Bees swarming **him.** Who knew that The Operator would be weak to buzzing? So much so that all **he** could do was try to watch. Overwhelmed, frozen, what a bitch. There's a saying that goes something along the lines of, _don't dish what you can't take._

Suddenly, **he** was gone. The swarm disappearing with **him.** Needing time to recuperate from the massive loss. You hoped with a grin that **he** could feel embarrassment and shame. 

The shake to their skin didn't go away. Even from a distance unknown, The Operator was still somewhat trying to get a hold of them. They were still proxies. You didn't know if they could even be 'fired' but that was just fine. With being a proxy came quite a lot of perks that weren't becoming a horrible murderer who was considered legally dead. There was the regeneration which they were most definitely going to need. Added strength and speed was always a nice bonus. You'd take a gander and say it couldn't quite pick and choose to take away the powers that came with being a proxy, it was a shitty packaged deal. 

The tether hadn't been snapped just yet but there was your whole lives together. Tolerances to The Operator's bullshit to build. It'd take a lot of time, you'd go through a lot of dark days for sure but somehow you'd all be okay. You just knew it.

Lionhearted and strong. Always smelling heavy of smoke, never seen without his thick sideburns, a stalker, murderer, and thief. The grandest thing in which he stalked, but could not kill but deafeningly stole, was you. Thought that was literal, you were thinking your heart was his greatest theft. Walls up and reinforced when you'd met, him trying to kill you then but now crying unabashedly. A bright and sunny smile on his cheeks, slicked with fat tears. It only grew with every step closer to the threshold to freedom.

Toby, the newest proxy of two years had a rocky start. Quickly falling into place under Tim and Brian's guidance. Upbeat and cuddly though all the bullshit that could freeze over the warmest of hearts. Though he was still bloodthirsty and the horniest person you'd ever fucking met, he was undeniably lovable. Not the best socially, but always looking to get better with those he cared about. Smile widening whenever he made you laugh. Though now, freedom fast approaching, his grin was wider than ever.

Starting out your little posse was Brian, hired first of all of you. Bitter, alone, recently resurrected. Letting hate for Tim and his circumstances fester, though Tim and him made up, looked after each other and Toby; he always thought that he'd be stuck in a loop of unhappiness. One that had no end. A good listener, multi-talented, smart, occasionally a know-it-all, a horrible, horrible, person that you loved. Smiling weakly with teary eyes as the loop finally came to an end. 

The largest puppy you'd ever seen. Simple minded yet always there for you, a furry shoulder to cry on and a maw willing to protect. He had no fucking idea what was going on. Just going where ever you did. Taking a bullet, biting his Papa, all for you. You'd make sure Goober came out of this alright.

You loved them all so fucking much.

All together, stepping over the threshold of the forest and onto the rocky road.

It was a sunny morning and the road stretched on ahead, long and narrow. Leading away from the forest. You all slowed to a walk, adrenaline fueled but exhausted. Stopping only for a moment so Brian could put Toby down, let the boy cool off and let Brian rest. Taking a breather and giggling as Toby found his footing, but not stopping moving ahead, starting the lengthy healing process together.

"You guys know I love you right?" You couldn't stop the happy tears from running down your filthy cheeks and you didn't want to. 

No more waiting, no more hesitating, Tim immediately blabbered out, _"I love you too, dummy."_

Playfully competitive and somewhat starting to gather himself with the lessened static, Toby practically shouted to the heavens, " _I love you the most, engel!"_

You didn't expect him to talk. He was overwhelmed and pissed at you but he was happy. You could have died but you didn't, you escaped with him."I love you too, honey." You looked to him surprised with raised browns, happy he'd returned the sentiment even if you knew you were going to get the cold shoulder for awhile.

The road was uneven and littered with imperfections. Just like when you drove your car down to the Rosswood Lodge all those months ago. Back then you could have never seen any of this coming. Even though it was rough and bloody stuff, you wore a smile as you all walked down the road. Avoiding as many potholes as possible. When one of you occasionally tripped, the others would always be there to pick them back up.


	58. Epilogue - A Hostage To Fortune

**Heavy NSFW Mentions**

_He_ was here again. 

He wasn't very good at what he did. The stalking. You'd known who he was for roughly a month now. You'd become hyper aware of peoples habits, little things they do, tics, speech patterns. After the diner you didn't get a chance to showcase the skill of observation as well, being pretty much trapped in the woods made it so that you didn't get to see many people other than the boys too much. But now, working at Starbucks, as a kind of mean barista with a dark past, you had plenty of social interaction with other people. 

He rubbed his neck a lot just like the man in the skull mask. He'd tap his foot when waiting for his coffee and for you outside your workplace. His general form was familiar and you didn't know too many people that freakishly tall. Unmasked and masked there was always an odd bulk in his pants. Too far to the side to be his dick and he never looked very happy to see you.

He kept coming around at closing, started doing it two months ago. When you first saw him, you were hit with a wave of recognition that you couldn't quite place. But as time ticked on by, you put two and two together. You'd seen him before. 

Tim and Brian had shown you some of Marble Hornets, only the happier and more normal clips. They told you the rest was ugly and you believed them. You saw a much younger, less traumatized, versions of your boys and of the man in your lobby. Now though, he looked tired, a bit more built, still pissy though. He often showed up in the dark parking lot when you worked closing shifts. Thing was, him and his little buddy couldn't do shit to you. 

The second you pieced together that he was the man in the skull mask, you told the boys. Even though you always carpooled home in your shitty 2008 Toyota Camry, the same model you'd had years back before they fucking totaled the thing, they hung around your workplace a bit more. They worried a lot about you, your asshole streak as well as your tendency to do stupid shit worried them all greatly. Even though you were working on being a lot more careful, sometimes they worried, a lot. Today was the first time in a while that Brian didn't come in to stare him down from across the cafe. Tim was waiting outside in the parking lot though, his shift over and waiting for you to finish up yours. Toby couldn't tag along to Tim's work today, he had some work of his own to finish up. So it was just you in the cafe with the two absolute clowns. As well as your coworkers and other patrons.

They must have thought that you wouldn't figure their shit out with three years of experience of this bullshit, they were wrong, it was pretty much child's play. **H** **e'd** sent a lot of them after you, the proxies. It started out pretty strong, one or two of them taking a stab at killing you every few days but now it was more like every two months. They'd stopped being so upfront about it. The lot of you had a bit of reputation at this point you'd bet. Three years was a long time to get better at shooting illegally obtained guns and learning hand to hand from Tim and Brian. Training on the floor of your shared apartment's living room sometimes it got a little heated. Tim's ears were bright red the first time you got him in a headlock.

You could handle yourself pretty goddamn well nowadays. You'd curb stomped your fair share of proxies. Smiling and calling them something crude whenever the little fucking cockroaches got up and came back for more. 

It was a hard pill to swallow, the fact that the man he killed was here to kill you. Another pill on top of all the fat pills he took, they all took now, completely medicated; thanks to Brian's ever improving skills in making fake ID's and scamming people online for cash. The pill was that Tim's paranoia wasn't misplaced fear this entire time. The man who's death hung heavy over his head was alive and not very well. A proxy.

Teeth boy stood beside his taller counterpart. You didn't know or care what their proxy code names were. Whatever they were, they had to be stupid. You found out awhile back that Toby's code name was just _'Ticci Toby'._ Everyone thought it was dumb so Tim and Brian mostly just called him _'Rogers'_ on the job.

All you knew was that the little motherfucker was way better at this than skull man. But that didn't mean you didn't pick up on him. It was really obvious by association, as well as his little fidgets, that had you suspecting him too. When his partner was being so annoyingly obvious in his staring and being a general creep, he probably shouldn't have stood next to him and ordered with or right after him. 

He also wore the same little bracelet in and out of uniform, not hiding his hair under a hood. Pulling at it semi-regularly. You hoped that it was a nervous tic, the little fucker shout be nervous being around you with such a clown of a partner. Well, he didn't do it as often in uniform. It was like Brain when he stalked you, ominous but he unlike his much quieter partner and the one you compared him too, he would just yap on and on about how he was going to break your kneecaps. The mask seemed to unleash something in the smaller man. 

The two hadn't gotten many chances to try and hurt you without the boys being around. There had been a few instances though, showing up behind Starbucks while you were chilling outside on your break. You may or may not have gotten a cock shot in on skull man, promptly curb stomping him and then, shot teeth boy in the chest three times.They always seemed to get over confident, the proxies, thinking you didn't know what the fuck you were doing. You'd been through this shit before, the boys really put you through the wringer when they stalked and harassed you. Even when they were more careful with their approaches, you had the boys to watch your back and point them out to you. 

"I've got a grande white mocha and a venti black coffee for _Alex Kralie_." There was no point in shouting the drinks out separately, they sat at the same table. 

You'd known it was him behind the mask for sometime and you were having a great time letting him know it. Watching him think that teeth boy, Clyde, was the reason that you figured who they were though was absolutely amazing though. Clyde was better at not staring as obviously as Alex but he kept letting little things slip. Trying to scare you with the fact that he, the big bad masked twenty-something, was stalking you at your workplace. You shrugged it off with a smile, been there done that.

The man bounded over, standing across the counter as you gave him a tight lipped smile. Though he towered over you, taller than Brian and with regenerative power, you were still a bitch with a nasty bite, harshly whispering over the soft ambiance of the coffee shop, "I'm going to fucking curb stomp you if you try to follow us home again.” Sliding the coffees across the counter, little doodles of their masks upon the cups, right above the name _Allen_ which was the fake name Alex had been using for the past two months. 

He stared down at you, stone faced and not backing down from your smug expression. Grabbing the coffees in knobby hands as he deadpanned, "Okay thanks, bye."

Turning sharply on his heel before returning to his table in the corner of the cafe in a huff. Either trying to dryly sass you or act like a normal person, acting like he was so disturbed that he didn't know how to properly respond. Either way, you snickered at him while turning to your co-workers. 

Your shift was finally over after six hours of hard work as a barista, you could finally go home.

"Hey guys," You chimed to your currently breaking co-workers, leaning on the backroom wall acting like they hadn't just been making out, "Clockin' out." 

"Already?" Long hair pulled into a tight bun atop his head and an array of pins on his apron, Justin idly stretched his arms over his head, "Thought you were doing some overtime tonight."

He reminded you of Emile sometimes, coming in with an array of purple hickeys and smugly making fun of customers with you on mutual breaks. It brought back bitter memories sometimes, of his death, his pleas that fell on deaf ears as he was murdered in cold and petty blood. Brian had apologized a million and one times by now, the two of you growing together as people for years, but that didn't take away the memory of what he'd done.

"Nah," You shrugged, making your way to the mounted IPad, "That's on Tuesday." Tapping on the screen, muscle memory guiding you through the process.

"Hm," He looked like him with shorter and straighter hair, he was also able to hold down a boyfriend for longer than two weeks, "Well, I hope you have a good night then."

Andy, the spitting image of Sully spoke. He was a good kid, polite. He was had a side hustle of selling THC as he called it. You begged him to just say weed. Without people to kill as a job anymore, you wanting a life as normal as possible and not allowing them to kill people for it, Brian and Toby bought from him. 

Brian got phantom pains in his back sometimes that would be so debilitating that he had to lay down for hours on end. The whole being a zombie thing and no longer being a proxy ordeal didn't mix very well. He feared being officially fired for a long time, thinking that he was going to drop dead on the spot when he was, but he didn't. He just got debilitating back problems without any actual medical reason for them, his back was fine now, but once upon a time his spine was shattered and contorted. Getting blazed out of his mind seemed to help him a lot. Though getting high helped with his anxiety, Toby mostly did it for fun. 

That's why you started talking to the two after a year of working at Starbucks. Because Andy sold weed to your husbands. By association with Andy, you started to talk to Justin. They were good kids, both seventeen and still in high school. Just hit the two year mark on their relationship which you congratulated them on, knowing relationships are tough. Especially in high school, but you didn't get into that with them. One thing about relationships that you did talk about was how many you had, they lost their absolute fucking minds when they found out that you were not only dating one hot guy, not two, but _three_ hot guys. 

For the longest time you refused to make small talk with normal people. In truth, you were afraid that if you made friends that they'd be killed by **his** proxies for the fun of it. That'd yet to happen, but their silly asses had hung around the teenagers homes before. You may or may not keep tabs on anyone you're somewhat close to, not wanting to feel responsible for any possible deaths. So whenever a proxy got the idea in their little pea brain that they were going to kill your friends to get at you, you shut that shit down in the form of a bullet between the eyes or a fist to the throat. 

"I will." You untied your apron, throwing it over your shoulder while stepping back from the machine. Checking the time before you exited the back room and made your way to the store front, "You guys got four minutes before your breaks are over by the way."

You began to bound toward the door, as Justin spoke with a weak wave, "Ah, thanks (Y/N). Have a good one."

"Yeah, goodnight." Andy chimed as you pushed the door to the somewhat populated coffee shop open.

You gave them a smile over your shoulder, "Don't let Dean walk in on y'all again, he was traumatized after the last time."

"I-" 

"Hey! That's not fair you-"

"Goodnight fellas!" You waved over your shoulder before pushing yourself out of the break room and into the store. The parking lot was stationed at the front of the store so you had to pass table after table to get to the exit.

Now it'd been two rocky years working as a barista, reusing your well practiced customer service voice. It was nice to work again. At a job that you wanted to work and didn't kill anybody over. Though sometimes you wanted to lunge over the counter and wring customers neck for the rude shit they said, but that'd get you in trouble with your manager. You already had two strikes, once for calling a particularly rude customer a _'giant weenie baby'_ and the other time for calling a customer, Tim, a _'stinky little man'_ over your headset while working drive-through. Your manager overheard and gave you a stern talking to and wouldn't listen when you tried to explain that you were joking. But hey, Tim got a free coffee cake out of it.

The first year of freedom was an utter shit show. Aimlessly wandering, hitchhiking whenever possible, pick pocketing, squatting for weeks on end in abandoned homes with no heating systems, stalked and harassed relentlessly by The Operator. Proxy after proxy, horrible night after horrible night, time marched on and the lot of you moved forward with it. Pain coming along for the ride but slowly starting to dissipate through the years.

It was a bit of a shock, your first group encounter with other proxies. If Toby wasn't such a willing meat shield you would have been shot dead. If Brian didn't have great intuition to know something big was coming, you would have been killed in your sleep. If Tim wasn't such a fighter who was good at defying the influence, the others would have been taken under The Operator's control again at the thrilling moments of bloodshed. 

It took a whole year and a month for them to feel the stretching and snapping of the unseen tether. A year of near constant buzzing under their skin that would sometimes go away when **he** was preoccupied doing god knows what. Sometimes it'd get bad for one or more of them. The others were always there to pick them back up, help them out of the static and make sure that they didn't chew your head off.

It was a gradual process honestly. You didn't know if they were fired the day they walked out of the flames and the affects of being a proxy took a long time to go away. Or if it fired them on that joyous day, slowly taking away their powers to make them much more mortal in order to weaken them, lessen the walls protecting you. Either way, they were free at last. You all sobbed for hours happily, jumping up and down, feeling paranoia at the fact that freedom didn't mean complete safety, and then you all went to Costco and bought a little cake that read ' _It's a girl!'._ Forgetting to snatch some plastic utensils so you all ate it messily with your hands.

"-ed to get better at this, okay?" Alex quietly hissed at his partner as you walked by, "Stop going off script. _Memorize your lines!"_ Clyde blinked at his coworker before taking a long sip of coffee. At his lack of a response, he tapped his finger on the table, the sound making you tense as he repeated for emphasis, " _Memorize your lines!"_

Setting down his coffee down gently, Clyde gave you a nasty side-eye before looking back to Alex, "No."

"What do you mean n-" You snickered as Alex paused, looking incredibly irritated. Pausing his speech at the fact that Clyde decided to flick his forehead, giving the man the most unamused expression you'd ever seen, almost dramatically sighing, " _Really?"_

You wouldn't get it twisted, Alex _was_ _very_ intimating. You'd just gotten good at not letting it show though years of this bullshit. Yet at the same time, knowing of his origins, knowing what he could do, knowing how shitty a person he was, it was sometimes hard to take him seriously. You couldn't believe this tall glass of walking depression had an anime phase in high school. You wanted to be in utter disbelief that Brian had dated him but Brian literally married you, a known chaotic dumbass, you could believe it.

"Yeah." Clyde replied playfully. Though the two were horrible rat bastards who were currently stalking you, you couldn't help but hope they found a way out of this too. You were a spiteful motherfucker, but being a proxy wasn't something you'd wish upon your worst enemy. Oh well, maybe just a little bit but not for the rest of their lives.

You tuned out the rest of their conversation, throwing a quick middle finger over your shoulder. You hoped with a smile that they saw as you opened the glass door and headed out of Starbucks. (E/c) eyes locked onto the car with a dull finished and a crumpled exterior, Tim sitting in the drivers seat. Watching and waiting.

With some pep in your step, you bounded over to the car. Tim visibly untensed at the sight of you in once piece after being in the same building as fucking Alex Kralie. It was still hard for him to accept after all this time, after seeing him die, he was alive and not very well. Tim refused to approach him, understandably wanting to keep a distance but still giving him a death glare anytime he so much as caught Alex looking in your or any one of the others general direction.

You tore the car door open with a smile, tossing your apron onto the seat before sitting on it, _"Hello, my lovely husband!"_ You obnoxiously cooed, shutting the car door.

Tim coughed without hacking up globs of blood, red faced but not averting his gaze, "We only talked about that this morning." He was smiling, only looking away to start backing the car out of it's parking spot.

The incident that sparked the subject this morning was a semi-serious proposal from Tim while laying next to each other in bed. Waking up mostly nude and still basking in the afterglow of last night's sex. You giving him the strap with a side of his own medicine, a sore ass from spanking. He got back at you after he caught his breath, delivering the same treatment to you. Him sleepily admitting in the soft light of the morning, "I think it'd be nice to call you my wife."

You'd responded as ballsy and forward as always, "Then call me your wife."

He still wanted to keep it between the two of you. He never hesitated to tell you that he loved you, but he was still a bashful guy. He didn't like to broadcast things like that as much as Toby did and he wasn't as uncaring of what people thought as Brian. Tim needed some time before he was ready to announce such big news. You'd respect that, letting him take as much time as he needed to feel comfortable. He also huffed out that he wanted to get you a ring. A cheap one, probably a simple ten dollar band off of Amazon. It didn't matter what it would look like though, you just couldn't wait to be his wife. 

You wondered how he'd do an official proposal, if he'd do one like Brian had. You'd bet any money he'd write yet another song for you. He'd written quite a few actually. Sometimes you wrote lyrics with him late at night when neither of you could sleep. Sweet nothings written messily on the back of receipts. 

Marriage wasn't the end all be all of romance or a requirement for normalcy. Honestly, it was just a nice title for all of you. Fake ID's were great and all but there were some risks that the boys didn't want to unnecessarily take in case it'd raise any suspicions. You were all legally dead now after all. 

The wildfire didn't go unnoticed by authorities. It took days to put the inferno out. The burnt mini-van and remains of a cabin spiked attention, the place being searched for any human remains. And boy did they find them. Brian and Toby kept a bit of murderabilia from their jobs; little trophies or things that caught their eyes. Oh and also a partial skeleton that Toby had apparently kept under his floorboards. Completely free of flesh or anything else too identifying, in okay shape. When you asked him why he had it, he just said he didn't remember who it was. He knew it was there, he just kinda didn't care. 

They found scraps of the occasional unburned bit of clothing, your clothing, among the murderabilia. With no identification on the body, no skin, no organs, skeleton incomplete, the authorities drew the conclusion that you'd been murdered. Stuffed under the floorboards of a even more crooked killer than you or you lived with said murder or murderers. Not enough evidence was found to confirm much, leaving them horribly stumped on how many people lived there and how many they killed. Though it wasn't the best explanation they had to offer the public, the cabin was the epicenter for a fast spreading wildfire, they didn't think that anyone could escape that shit. Even though none of your bodies were found, they just safely and stupidly assumed the bones were yours. So you had the pleasure of being able to be out in public. 

It was unlikely that anyone would ever recognize you. It'd been almost three years since you'd been deemed dead, you didn't remember that night, getting so stupidly drunk off your ass that you completely blacked out. It was sad as much as it was oddly freeing. Everyone you'd ever known thought you to be a monster, a dead one. You'd also moved completely out of Alabama to somewhere a few states away, a podunk town, Keweenaw, Michigan. Sparsely populated and no one seemed to look at you twice. On top of being 'dead' you had also changed a lot, not just from age and love. The bridge of your nose had a slight bump to it from the horrible break it'd had thanks to Brian. Your ear chipped and palms of your hands mildly distorted in pink and darkened (s/c) burn scars.

Alabama had too many painful memories and bad associations with it to stay. Though the boys did accompany you to the graveyard before you all finally hitchhiked your way out of the hell state for good. Getting one last bit of tearful closure, having much more mixed feelings about Dan now. A complex piece of shit who's story you'd never fully know, just like him to you. Unless his unseen ghost was following you around. Jen didn't deserve this, you gave her grave a firm pat. Henry, Michael, and Alexis's graves were also looked to but you didn't have as many strong feelings toward their horrid demises. The boys didn't feel bad for what they did to them, more so that they mentally fucked you. Offering condolences and apologizes about crazy murdering their asses.

As you all made your way up the country, you passed through Indiana, through Corydon. Briefly visiting Sully and his mother in their graves. Giving them heartfelt apologies said way too late. It was cathartic though, even if your words were for people who could not hear them. You'd given Emile's grave a quick visit too, putting a hand on the cold stone with a sighed _'sorry kid'._

 _"Yeah but!"_ You loved the way he looked blushing so softly and sweetly like that. "I just like the idea of calling you my husband even if it's not official yet."

He glanced at you once he pulled up to a stop sign with a soft smile, one that had your heart soaring. Softly laughing affectionately though his nose, hesitant about announcing it to the world just yet but glad to call you the title, "Alright uh," He thought a moment, you could see the gears turning in his head while he tried to think of something vaguely romantic, "My very okay wife."

You cackled as he moved past the stop sign, "You're too cute, you know that?"

"I am not cute." Tim playfully deadpanned, eyes ahead on the road. 

This was a topic the two of you found yourselves often jokingly debating over. Tim always caving and admitting whatever dumbly affectionate thing you'd deemed him for the day. "Well everyone at-" 

"Those kids are actual demons! All of 'em. Don't listen to them because all those little fuckers spout is propaganda." Tim defended himself from the many positive opinions of his teenage and twenty-something year old coworkers. Tim worked at Walmart now as a manager, climbing the ladder pretty quick with his focus on work and hard ass mentality. His poor coworkers first impressions of him were that of a no nonsense, horrible douche-bag. But they quickly found out what you had once you got to know him, he was just a big ole teddy bear. Always looking after those under him and making sure shitty customers didn't fuck with his employees. They started jokingly calling him Dad awhile back, when you first overheard the nickname while running an errand with him after your shift, he was so embarrassed though he didn't try to hide the giant smile on his rosy cheeks.

Errands with Tim at his work place were always a treat. His younger coworkers lost their minds when they found out he had a girlfriend and shit their pants when they saw how much softer he could get. Whenever you passed the Febreeze you'd put a hand on his shoulders and tell him to 'look at that cool thing'. He'd turn his head, sigh, shudder a bit, and lightly chide you about fire safety. 

"Aww come on Timbert," You cooed, "They all love you."

Tim turned the blinker on, changing the subject, "How was work? Did _he_ give you any trouble?"

"If you count creepy staring as trouble then sure." You shrugged, giving him a look. He'd been quite the creepy starer back in the day. You didn't leave it there, wanting to calm his nerves, "Other than that, not really." He hadn't tried anything for sometime but that didn't mean you were in the clear. He was still hanging around, he was still going to try to kill you. In return, you'd keep a sharp eye on him and put hole after hole in the tall fucker if he tried anything funny.

"Alright," He didn't seem too comforted, "'Cuz you know what I'll do if he does." He curled his bottom lip in mild disgust, hate dripping from his tone. Though years had passed since the events that led him to killing the man, feelings mixed and muddied, Alex was posing a threat to all of you. It didn't matter if he understood Alex's point of view, he was sent to take care of the lot of you.

The mood was somewhat sullied at the serious subject of another poor sucker sent to kill your dumb asses. A moment of semi-silence settled over the car's ambiance. Whenever things got a bit too stressful Tim would need something to destress but he was driving and couldn't quite grab as he was focusing on looking to the road. "Hey (Y/n), can you pass me my juul?"

It took some convincing, a year and a half's worth to get him to stop smoking cigarettes. As his regenerative powers started to dissipate, you realized that smoking them could actually have really fucking bad effects on him. So, he switched to vaping to ween himself off smoking slowly. His coworkers supported him but they also thought the nearly thirty year old man vaping outside of Walmart was genuinely a wonderful sight.

You reached into the little cubby that was below the car radio, quietly playing some soft rock song you'd never heard before. Pulling the thin gray device free of its usual resting place. Holding it out to Tim with a, "Here."

He probably could have grabbed it no problem, he just liked little touches that came with quick interactions like this. His fingers brushing against yours while he grabbed the juul.

"Thanks." He said, driving down the straight road one handed while bringing the thing up to his lips.

"Roll down your window." You nagged, "Smells like a middle school bathroom in here whenever you use that stupid little flavor."

He complied with the thing hanging between his lips, the juul hissing as he inhaled. Promptly blowing the puff of thickly scented smoke out of the window, "It's mint." He blandly corrected, a more subtle flavor compared to shit like cotton candy, "And it doesn't smell like a bathroom, it smells like baby wipes and you know it!"

The two of you went back and forth about the scent for sometime. Playfully arguing turning into a sweet exchange.

"You know I love you right?" You asked, a spark of adoration in your eye as he pulled the Toyota Camry into the parking lot.

Turning off the ignition and pulling the keys out of it, Tim turned to you while putting the juul back in its usual spot. He was the only one that respected that smoking in your shared home was fucking annoying. You could excuse Brian, not really able to get up to go outside when he smoked. But Toby was another deal all together, the little nightmare man would rip hits off his stolen glass bong in the middle of the living room. Stinking the place up.

"Course," Tim sweetly admitted while leaning over the cup holders, "An' I love you too." Instead of placing a peck on your lips he blew a hot stream of air at you, _"Admit it smells like baby wipes."_ He challenged in a whisper.

You snickered, whispering back, _"Fuck no."_

The two of you took a moment to laugh before placing a quick peck on one another's lips. Exiting the car and looking up to the dinky apartment complex. White and tan, repetitive units with little balconies. It was a miracle really that the lot of you found such a nice place for what money you had. Though none of you were above stealing, it didn't reap as many benefits as people thought. A three bedroom, one bathroom apartment was asking for a lot. You also had to find a place that was fine with pets, especially one as large and loud as Goober. Through the years he'd only grown larger, taller, heavier, fluffier. 

It wasn't any of your guys doing, but the apartment in which you now resided had a murder occur in it a bit before you all moved in. Rolling up to the place after taking baths in a McDonald's restroom, trying to look as presentable as possible. The landlord was alright with all of you moving in as long as you could actually pay rent. Which wasn't a problem, the gruesome slaying dropped the price and appeal of the place big time. Landlords were greedy bastards, always looking for ways to squeeze cash out of people so of course he tried to bump up the price when he saw how desperate you all were. Brian intimidated the fuck out of the little snot, staring him down silently for a few seconds before firmly saying, "No."

He didn't try to raise your rent again. You had a feeling that Brian left a lasting impression as well as the fact that all of you were rude and intimidating as all hell. Though you didn't show or talk about it, the lot of you looked like you'd commit and get away with murder. The assumption was absolutely correct. That or Brian did some crazy psychological manipulation to the guy because the man wouldn't ever look at him when they were in the same room. Either way, he never notified you of the noise complaints you should have gotten. A giant and loud dog. Tim and Toby sometimes forgetting what an inside voice was. Brian was actually pretty good about not being loud. _But_. He had a habit of making you scream his name so you were pretty sure that counted. The others too, though Tim would try to tell you to be quiet, the both of you would forget about volume once things got really hot and heavy. Toby was _much_ louder than you, not giving a single shit about what people could hear despite your near constant warnings.

Tim turned the key in the lock, slowly opening the door to the apartment. A slow open was necessary when Goober always ran to the door, jamming his snout out of the crack. Loudly sniffing at whoever was coming home.

"Come on mutt," Tim lightly tapped his wet nose as he inched into the apartment, "Ya gotta move."

Goober complied, backing up in a hobble as you came in after Tim, shutting the door behind you. The dog had lived through the shot to the leg all those years ago. Albeit barely.

Delirious and tired, all of you scrambled to save the dogs life. The process of wrapping the wound in a torn arm of your flannel around his leg, washing out the wound in river water and you pulling the bullet from his leg with your bare fingers was exhausting and near impossible as he thrashed around in pain. It took awhile till you could close the open wound as the boys were in pieces, none of you in very good shape to show your faces in public. It took until he had hardly moving and yipping at all, for you to storm into a department store and steal a first-aid kit. People tried to stop you but anyone who came too close got a foot to the dick or a fist to the throat. You wouldn't let your dog die and he didn't Although there was a noticeable limp in his back right leg. Now the two of you matched, although your limp was a lot less pronounced. 

It didn't take Goober too long to warm back up completely to Brian. It only took a week of aimlessly wandering on the edges of towns, stealing food and sleeping on the floor of suspiciously wet alleyways. In that time everyone needed comfort and Goober was willing to provide it when not overwhelmed with pain. Goober nipping weakly, growling at Tim and Brian but quickly calmed when you shushed him. Letting the boys softly pet him only with you near and in no danger. 

Deeply barking and tail swiping to and fro with such force that his butt was swaying, Goober's eyes only seemed to light up when he saw you. A mauled squeaky toy on the floor, fluff viciously strewn about. Adorable.

"Hey boobie boy!" You obnoxiously cooed, patting your upper thighs as he approached. You obnoxiously tousled the fur atop his head with a grin. "Did you miss me?" He barked excitedly in response, "Does Tim smell like a middle school bathroom?" You gave the man a playful side eye, point reinforced by another excited bark.

As you and Tim kicked your shoes off, Toby swung his bedroom door open with a cheeky grin, " _(Y/n)! Ssson-sonnenblümchen! Engel! Muh-maus!"_ Toby was a sucker for nicknames but those three were his favorite, he told you what they meant when you finally remembered to ask. Sunflower. Angel. Mouse. It made you think of how the only way he remembered the softly affectionate nicknames were muddied ideas of what his mother was like. Warm, loving, yet without a face or name.

"Toby!" You chirped as he rushed out of his room toward you like he hadn't seen you in days and not six hours. The ring he wore from a necklace bounced as he moved. About a year and a half ago when things started to look a lot less grim, he remembered that marriage was a thing. Even though it wouldn't be official in the eyes of the government, none of you gave a rats ass about the establishment or rules. He popped the question after hearing a bad Borat impression while visiting you at work. 

A man yelling across the coffee shop, "MAH WIFE!" Was all it took for Toby to think about calling you that. He quickly got to work on making a ring, it took awhile but he insisted on making one. After a month of waiting, you got a resin ring. Clear and filled with neatly preserved little daisies. He told you it took countless tries to get it _just right_. All because he wanted to do something as perfect as possible for you. Making a matching one for himself. 

The two of you had a 'ceremony' in the living room. Too excited to go out once the rings were done. Getting Brian to be your makeshift wedding officiant by reading the well known script of ' _you may now kiss the bride'_ after excitedly exchanged _'I do'_ s. Tim ugly cried from the couch the entire time.

"I love yuh-you!" He yelled while practically jumping on you. He was more affectionate than Goober sometimes whenever you came home.

"I lo-WHOA!" You yelped as you were lifted from the carpeted floor. Arms wrapped around your waist and torso pressed against yours.

Spinning you round and round as you giggled. Finally set back onto the floor when he was happy with his work. That work being making you dizzy as all hell. 

You never thought you'd be here. In a happy relationship, more than one at that, after high school. Living with those who were years ago your mortal enemies. Especially after all the shit the lot of you had been through. Being homeless for quite a while, beating the shit out of any proxies that reared their masked heads, hacking up blood and vomit, having to pee in the the woods more than you'd like to admit.

Normalcy didn't come quick and none of you would ever be completely normal. All of you were murderers masquerading as obnoxious neighbors. They had regenerative powers for years on end and going back to having no powers at all was a bit jarring for them. Tim and Brian were used to being reckless but they were much better about keeping themselves together than Toby. With the inability to feel pain and the general disregard he had for safety, he got hurt a worrying amount the first year of having not a spec of regenerative power. The apartment had been just a tad baby proofed the first couple months of them being officially free. They got better at taking care of themselves over time ticked on by but there was still was the occasional fuck up. Although sometimes they reveled in the fact that they could get hurt now. The first time his scraped knee didn't go away under an hour, Tim looked like something had been shoved up his ass. And as someone who has given the man the strap, you knew that was a good look. A happy look.

He still held onto you, steadying you and you stumbled a bit. Hands on his shoulders, glancing at the resin band on your left ring finger for a moment, you sweetly reminded, "I love you too." 

"Wh-wait," Toby couldn't seem to stop smiling, "What was th-that? Don't thuh-think I heard you." 

You snorted, willing to comply with his near constant need for validation, "I said, 'I love you'," The gash along his cheek only elongated his grin, "And also that 'you're a big baby'."

"I'm your bi-big baby!" Toby chimed, peppering smooches on your forehead.

"And I'm still here." Tim interrupted lightly. The two of you, hugging, looked over to him.

"Sshuh-shouldn't you be wa-walking the dog?" Toby laughed, rolling a shoulder back. Walking Goober was something the lot of you alternated between. There was a whole schedule that Brian set up on the fridge and everything. Some days when all of your schedules lined up, no proxies were trying to rip your throats out, and Brian wasn't in debilitating pain, all of you would go out and walk him together. 

"Yeah, yeah." Tim fakely sighed, acting exasperated but he'd grown quite close to the dog and looked forward to spending time with him. He grabbed the dogs leash which had been lazily thrown onto the couch, looking to you as he hooked the thing up to Goober's collar, "You're still sleeping in my room tonight, right?" He was shy about saying 'sleeping together' due to the sexual connotations despite the fact that the other boys knew that the two of you were sexually active and had been for years. 

"For sure!" You chirped. Of course you were going to sleep next the newest addition to your collection of husbands. Although the word fiance would probably be more fitting, none of you had ever really waited long until you considered yourselves as officially married as you could be. It'd be nice to lay next to him and quietly call him your husband and then he'd get all choked up when he'd call you his wife. Your last name would unofficially elongate with the union. It was just funny to you to have such a long last name, you couldn't wait for the boys to start to refer to you as Mrs.(L/n)-Rogers-Thomas-Wright.

Tim was the one who appreciated the idea of normalcy the most, sinking back into society as much as possible, falling into the background of the world, happy and healthy as could be. Considering yourselves married wouldn't change anything but the title change seemed to make him very soft. He just never thought that he'd be free and able to be okay-ish. The idea of being domestic and loving got to him more than he'd admit. It wasn't that he hid the fact that he liked it, he just didn't talk about it but you knew how to read him. 

"What?" Toby whined, "But I wa-wanna ssssluh-sleep with (Y/n)!" Tightening his hold on your waist ever so slightly.  
  
"We can sleep together tomorrow night, Tobes." You informed, smiling at Tim who was opening the door once more, "We can hang out if you don't have any commissions to work on right now if you want!" You were free the rest of the day but Toby's work schedule was almost always in flux. Being self employed worked very well for him but he was never able to be the best with scheduling himself.

"I fuh-finished up that big thingy that I've buh-been working on the past week-eek." Toby backed off a bit, stepping toward his room in a suggestion for you to follow.

"Ooh! Lemme see." Toby's art had only grown better over the years. With medication his pieces became more cohesive and better compositionally. Of course he still loved to do more contemporary work. Colorful, twisting shapes that morphed into whatever he put his mind to. He tried to get hired at Starbucks with you, thinking it'd be nice to work together. Companies like to say that they don't discriminate, but his tics and stutter clearly turned your manager off despite the fact he was hired. He didn't last five days. Throwing scalding coffee over the counter at a customer who wouldn't stop staring. You had to stop yourself from laughing, not exactly taking too kindly to people staring at him for being different. Always wearing gloves to keep himself from picking, a bandage over his cheek whenever he was in public, and always twitching, people always seemed to stare. Sometimes it got to be too much for him. Also the guy had been mildly rude to you. Scoffing and rolling his eyes when you supposedly didn't hear him request something while you had your headset on, taking drive-through orders and unable to pay attention to the people at the counter. 

Toby tired to get a few other 'normal' jobs but never got hired or couldn't hold the job. It was hard on him at first, wanting to be somewhat normal but he was unable to work like you and Tim could. He found work at home with the help of Brian, who gave him a platform to have his art be showcased on, his very popular Twitch channel. People taking interest in Brian's wonderfully illustrated custom emotes and _'Stream starting soon'_ screen. The man had bought Toby a cheap drawing tablet and whatever art supplies he could afford, Toby went buck-wild. He was pretty awful with computers at first but he was a fast learner, getting the hang of it and banging out digital piece after digital piece. Brain and you helped him set up a social media under a fake name to post his art and gather a following to sell his work to. 

Social media with all of you was a bit of a tricky thing. Only Brian showed his face and that was only on stream, he never posted pictures of his face anywhere. He advised all of you to not post pictures just as a precaution. He was sure enough that no one on stream would recognize people, supposedly long dead, older looking, and on a seedy webcam. But that didn't mean you couldn't have social media. You just preferred to stay off of it. A reminder of people long dead and a level of normalcy that you could never had. It made you bitter. But that didn't stop you from helping Toby with growing his following and what to tag and what to put in captions. He was utterly fascinated with the idea of it.

"Wait." Tim interjected, Goober in the hallway and Tim in the doorway, "Have you decided what were gonna watch tonight yet?"

"Nah," You shrugged, "I think Brian had some stuff in mind, though. I'll ask him while you're out." Movie night was practically a requirement under your off-white and questionably stained roof. A pile of bodies stuffed onto a couch thrifted off eBay, munching on cheap popcorn and under a cotton blanket. Brian didn't like any other types of blankets, not that you minded. 

He nodded, "Alright. Be back in a bit." The door almost completely shut before you heard him call out, "Love ya."

You snickered, "Love ya too." You weakly waved even though he couldn't see you. 

"Come on!" Toby tugged you along by the hand, "Cuh-come on!" He'd been working on the piece for quite awhile, he was getting impatient even though you'd been home for less than five minutes.

You followed him into the open door of his room. A large work desk with a thick sketchbook propped up on it. Next to that was his tablet and shut laptop, colored pencils strewn about. The piece was sitting pretty on a rickety easel he stole from the trashcan of a Micheal's. 

The piece had been commissioned some time ago, the customer wanted something with a lot of warm colors and _'Trippier than being on LSD in Ikea'_ as they put it. Toby fucking delivered. He always did. Hyper-focusing on his work for hours on end, throwing colors together like it wasn't shit, dribbling paint and doing long flicks of brush stokes. Visually loud and crowded, yet still cohesive, pretty. 

"Toby! Holy fucking god!" You hadn't seen his progress in a day or so but he'd added a lot, the piece finally finished and wonderful, "It looks wonderful! Jesus Christ!" He seemed to be basking in your praise, looking very happy as you complimented his work. 

The subject shifted to his sketchbook where he had some concepts that he was working on. He took tattoo design commissions pretty often, putting them down in his sketchbook and going through multiple iterations of each design before he deemed it perfect. In fact he designed the matching tattoos that all of you wore on your right arms, on your forearm right before the crease of your elbow. Four creatures intertwined together, a fuzzy bumblebee for Brian, a chunky cat for Tim, a scrawny rat for Toby, and a stubborn bull for you.

Body mods such as tattoos and piercings were something that really caught Toby's eye. He loved the idea of them and whenever he had the money to spend he'd start talking about a new piercing he wanted or putting a tattoo here or there. He still had his septum piercing with the original hoop he got that day at the mall. He also had a small eyebrow piercing, one on the upper bridge of his nose, an industrial in his left ear, and two helixes in his right. That wasn't where the piercings stopped by a fucking long shot. The second he found out about dick piercings, _it was all over._ He got them eight or so months back when he made enough money, a Jacob's ladder. He had four 'rungs' as he called them and was planning to get more eventually. He was still talking back and forth with the tattoo artist who helped the lot of you with the forearm tattoos about a sleeve as well. They'd been planning that thing for awhile and the second Toby saved enough money he was going to get that shit done. 

He was so cute talking about things he was passionate about, you couldn't help but place a little peck on the corner of his lips. He immediately ceased his chatter, turning to you with a smirk and risen brows. Now you'd done it. 

Your back was on his rickety mattress before you knew it. There'd been a long established list of things you were okay with in the bedroom. It was only natural to communicate that with someone you were getting nasty with. One thing that Toby found through a bit of talking and first hand experience, was that you didn't mind being a bit manhandled. Although not too hard, if he was far too rough and forceful it'd bring back painful memories. 

He practically leapt onto the bed, on top of you in an instant. You knew pretty fucking well what an absolute horn-dog Toby was, you kinda had an idea this would happen. Good. It'd be nice to destress after a hard day of making macchiatos and dealing with stare downs. 

Hands on either side of your head, straddling your hips, and leaning down, hot breath wafting over your face. Smelling vaguely of artificial cherries as his lips grew closer.

You had forgotten your chapstick on the kitchen island this morning, your lips were horridly dry, "Hey, can you pass me your chapstick?"

Blinking, he said, "Oh yeah, ssuh-sure." He shifted, grabbing the pink and white tube. You learned from experience that transferring chapstick via kissing kinda worked but not as well as actually just fucking putting chapstick on. He removed the chewed cap between his fingers and brought the tube down. It'd become a bit of a thing for the two of you to apply one another's chaptstick. It wasn't needed it was just a cute ritual you often engaged in.   
  
As he applied the sweet smelling balm, he asked, "How wa-was work?"

They'd all been asking that a lot lately with the appearance of Alex. Though Toby had no personal history with the man, he still knew how badly he fucked Tim and Brian up. He was aware that Alex was dangerous and he worried for you. Often stating how badly he wanted to bash his teeth in. The only times that he'd seen Alex was at Starbucks, sitting with Clyde and trying to act normal. Seeing the men who stalked you all pissed Toby the hell off but he did his best to not pounce on them the second he saw them. 

That'd be assault which is illegal. Sure, he may have been a mass murderer with an unknown, but high, kill count, he was trying to present as normal as he could. It was the hardest on him, not killing almost every couple of days anymore. Tim didn't want to kill ever again, you either. The remorse of what the both of you had been somewhat dulled by being so jaded but that didn't mean you wanted to continue the vicious cycle of bloodshed. Brian was happy to live normally but sometimes he'd wistfully sigh, say something about how much he wanted to _'just drown somebody right about now'._ But past that, he didn't really struggle. Toby however was a whole different level. Having fucking murder withdrawls. 

He loved the chase, the thrill of the kill, he craved it, and often expressing how much he missed it. The solution was hunting, Brian would buy him whatever hunting licence was in season. Not with guns, he couldn't be trusted with the things. He bought two shiny new hatchets at Home Depot when the idea of hunting was brought up, went into the woods, and disappeared for hours. Came home at four in the morning covered in blood. Thank god none of your neighbors saw him but the bloody footprints in the lobby caused a mild commotion later that morning. You thought he killed a human but he laughed at your misconception. He just killed four full grown deer in a nearby forest. You told him that when one hunts they bring the game they killed home. He thought that made a lot more sense than what he thought he was supposed to do, leave perfectly good meat to rot in the summer heat. 

"It was alright." You mumbled as he put the cap back onto the chapstick, "Alex's still acting like he's not a proxy though . Kinda funny when the guy he's with literally won't stop dropping hints." You rose a challenging brow at him, "Kinda like somebody I know."

He clicked his tongue as he put the chapstick back, "I was sss-so ssuh-subtle." He joked, "I have no idea wh-who you're talking about." Haughtily lowering himself once more.

Though the whole diner diabolical was horrifying, some of the events of that bad times had become butts of jokes. Trauma still being dealt with but it was still pretty funny that Toby thought he was slick, then again you did fall for his charade for a couple of days. 

Your answer seemed to put him at some ease, that or he would rather do something else, "Now," Face closer than before and pinning you beneath him, "Come here."

"I'm already here." You retorted with a laughing huff. Intentionally pushing his buttons.

"You think you're really cuh-cute, huh?" He chided in response, a hand coming to the side of your face to tilt your head more toward him. A subtle show of control that you were into.

"Yes, yes I do." You smiled, hands coming to the front of his paint stained tank-top, tugging him down. A command that he followed with a throaty chuckle. He always seemed to think it was adorable when you tried to have some sort of control in these situations, taking great pleasure when he dominated you. Which you allowed him to do with a grin, knowing he'd stop if you told him to. Trust.

The two of you stayed like that on his bed for awhile. Lips sliding together, he was still a sloppy kisser after all these years but you didn't really mind. Tongues grinding and hands starting to wander under each other's shirts.

_**BRRRRRRRING!**_

Knocking on doors or having phones on vibrate in this house was a big no-no. So you caught each others attention by yelling out names or calling phones. Toby sighed as he pulled himself away, grumbling out a string of curses while dragging his cheap, cracked, phone off his nightstand. Picking up the call with an annoyed, "What?"

You heard Tim's voice over the line with a slight muffle that came with the evening breeze. "Did you guys ask Brian about the movie yet?" Ever the cock-blocker.

"No." Toby mumbled, Tim nagging you guys was commonplace at this point.

"Can y'all do that right now?" Toby sighed dramatically while sitting up, "And don't sigh at me like that young man."

"I'm twenty-two." Toby let out a laugh as he swung his legs off the bed, holding out a hand for you to take. "Don't truh-treat me like a kid."

"And I'm twenty-eight." Tim playfully deadpanned, "You're like a little baby to me."

"Old!" You chimed in, "Old fucking man!"

Tim scoffed over the receiver, "I'm literally not the oldest. Brian is a year older than me and you both know it."

"Old!" Toby parroted.

"Old man!" You chanted, "Old man!"

"Ugh," He was playing but then genuinely spoke, "Just ask Brian what he wants to watch. Think that kid's following me again, gotta go." He sounded mildly concerned but mostly annoyed. Clyde. Alex was probably nearby but he would've called the man by name. Despite Clyde not looking like a child in the slightest, Tim just referred to most of them, the proxies, as children. A lot of them were mentally ill teenagers and even if they seemed older or the same age as him, he didn't give enough of a shit to differentiate age in his speech. 

"Be safe!" You ushered.

"Yeah, don't guh-get fucked up by a baby killer." Toby was worried for his safety but was quite confident in Tim and Goober to make it home in one piece.

He sighed, "I'll be fine. Be home in a bit."

"Cya." You and Toby said a unanimous goodbye before the call ended.

Toby instantly scoffed obnoxiously, "(Y/n) can you ah-ask Brian about that ssh-shit? I think I'm gonna need a cuh-cold sssh-shower." He spoke with a jerk of his neck, you could tell that he needed one very obviously. Covered in paint and looking like he was going to burst a blood vessel controlling himself from not pouncing on you once more. Knowing that Tim would chew you both out for not doing what he asked. 

"I got 'cha." You went to open his bedroom door before he put a hand on your wrist. "Hm?"

"Tomorrow nuh-night?" He asked with risen brows.

You smiled warmly, "Tomorrow night. And!" He perked up, "As something to look forward to for your upmost patience," You rolled the words haughtily off your tongue, "I'll let you use your knife again." The suggestion had him very happy. The thing about Toby was that he was very, very, into shit like that. Though he'd never hurt you for real, he liked you at his consensual mercy. Feeling just a bit more powerful with a weapon in hand. You were also an absolute freak so you also thought it was hot.

Brian's door was slightly ajar, his phone was usually forgotten about when he was streaming. He tried to find more traditional forms of employment like you and Tim had. Yet he couldn't work with the debilitating phantom pains that would hit him every few days for hours on end. He couldn't work around something he could never foresee. So instead, he started streaming. Originally it was him complying with a request to stream his stupid fucking video games while you were at work, you'd watch him on breaks and send little hearts in the chat. As well as little strings of binary that he giggled sweetly at. He'd taught you, though it was tough you could sometimes write out a cohesive sentence.

It was just a little hobby of his that he was scarily good at, playing video games. He really liked this one horror game where you play versus other people as a killer or a survivor, Dead By Daylight. You weren't one for horror as much as you were as a teen considering the shit that happened to you, but Brian had no problems with the game. In fact he smiled when he told you it was nice, killing digital people. Although it was unrealistic and he didn't quite get the same rush, he greatly enjoyed as his chat put it, ' _spanking survivors'._

That and becoming hyperfixated on speed running obscure games on Steam, people started tuning in. Scamming people online was a good money maker and all but Twitch was also an opportunity to make good money. So he started streaming more and built a pretty solid audience. People really liked watching him play as a killer, making the occasional snarky comment, and sweetly giggling whenever survivors made mistakes, allowing him to plunge his digital bone-saw into their flesh.

He sometimes liked to talk in cryptic codes. On Tuesdays he had puzzle streams, cracking codes subscribers sent in. Sometimes solving puzzles for the newest alternate reality game. His hyper fixation on cryptology hadn't died down in the slightest and viewers loved him for it. All the little nerd bitches flocked to his stream, trying to stump the man and always failing.

"Hey honeybee?" You spoke clearly as you entered the room. He'd grown somewhat neater over the years, but not really. Keeping crumpled papers with ciphers and notes on his bedside table rather than his floor. 

He was streaming, playing Dead By Daylight once more, though right now wasn't his normal playing time, perhaps impromptu out of boredom. Playing the gun-toting, stupidly named, _'The DeathSlinger'_. When the character was released he viciously tore it apart, criticizing the gun and how guns are supposed to work and how x wouldn't work because y. His viewers ate it up but he still occasionally played the character for _'ole times sake'_. He did not elaborate.

Brian had taken to going to the nearest gun range on occasion. It was a destresser for him, something he was comfortable with and good at. Brian was a creature of habit, liking the same routines and getting a bit agitated if they were interrupted. That's why the first two months of freedom, the two of you went through a rough patch. He was eternally grateful for what you'd done but you just uprooted his entire life, well, afterlife. As well as Tim and Toby's. All of you had some nasty fights back and forth about how you could have died, and you'd always retort with that you were still alive. The possibility was just too real for them, as well as the fact that you'd never truly be safe with proxies down your asses. Though you'd made up quite a long time ago, there would always be extreme concern for your safety. 

Blinking, he turned himself in his swivel chair and put his headphones around his neck, "Sugar bear." He greeted with a smile as you approached, "What'cha need?" Though he was willing to show his face, he didn't like using real names. Everyone had a nickname in the house, even Goober who him and viewers referred to simply as 'Dog'.

"Wanna know what you wanna watch tonight." You informed him with your approach, glancing to his monitor. The chat was going fucking crazy. They always did when you or the others came in and talked to Brian. They were here for Brian but the oddity of him being in a four person polycule was also something people were quite interested in. The chat loved all of you.

"Hm." He tapped his chin, turning to chat while you leaned on the back of his chair with a wave to his webcam, ""I'm in the mood for a 'so good it's bad' kind of movie." He glanced up to you with a smile, tooth gap as charming as ever, "Chat what do you think?"

They were still going crazy, sending strings of emotes that Toby custom made for Brian's channel. Little hearts, suggestions lost in the unending stream of word salad, and multiple variations of the poggers emote. 

"Man," You softly chuckled as he wrapped an arm around your waist, "They're takin' awhile to figure something out."

He hummed, glancing at the confused survivors on his monitor, tea-bagging in front of him to try and get his attention.

"Hey." He addressed the chat as some people went on about public displays of affection being gross and others proclaiming you two were adorable together. "I'm going to pause the stream a sec so I can talk to Honey real quick." 

The chat was mostly just, 'Okay!' and 'They're gonna fuck. Can I get a poggers for fucking, gamers?' and random movie suggestions. He softly snickered, leaning forward and putting the stream on halt. The chat could no longer see the two of you or the game he stopped paying attention to once you came into the room. They were left with a cute paused stream and the background music Brian always had going while streaming.

He fully spun his chair to you, lightly tugging you forward, "How was work?" Though he wanted you to sit on his lap for a spell, he was still your concerned spouse. 

His proposal was a few months after Toby's. Though you were on good terms at that point, there had still been some underlying resentments that needed to be ironed out. Said resentments being you being a crazy ass, challenging proxies when he underestimated you to not be able to take care of it. He had a point, they couldn't be killed through fists or bullets yet you picked fights and called out proxies who were trying to stalk you in public. Further agitating them and occasionally actually getting you fucked up. You met in the middle. Him coming to better terms with that you could take care of yourself with what they'd taught you. But you'd stop throwing yourself in harms way so goddamn much. Not screaming at proxies to ' _do it pussy, you fucking won't!'_ For his sanity and your long term health, you did not want to have your head almost bashed in by another angry teenager with a baseball bat for a third time.

When the issue was smoothed over and some time passed, he popped the question. Well, he brought up the idea to you, the logistics of getting married in your situation, you told him you didn't give a fuck if the law saw your union as real or not and that you'd piss your pants if he proposed. He told you to be patient. 

It was genuinely very romantic. Well, as much as proposing in the bedroom of his apartment could be. That week had been a particularly rough one with the resurfacing of another proxy. Tim called her by name, Sadie, when he saw her hiding around a corner in the long hallway that led to your shared apartments front door. You were trying to take a safer approach with proxies, learning when to not challenge them, when to throw in the towel. It was exhausting looking at her, so you'd chosen to let the boys take care of her til she eventually fucked off like the rest of them. 

You'd just gotten off work, came home with Tim. Him and Toby quickly made an excuse to leave, something about dog treats. In reality, Brian just told them he wanted to be alone with you for the proposal and asked them to wait outside. Which also doubled as them looking out for Sadie, making sure she wouldn't interrupt such a joyous occasion.

Your first clue was on the fridge, a cryptic note with a smiley face. That note led you to another with binary that took you an embarrassing amount of time to crack. Once you figured that out, you were led to the next clue. A sticky note attached to a fist sized bee plushie, that clue led to another, then another. Finally you entered Brian's bedroom once the last clue led you to his door, marked by a smiley face sticky note that you hadn't seen when you'd passed by it over and over. He put it there when you weren't looking, sneaky as ever. 

He hated suits, with a burning passion. He was more of a stupid cotton t-shirt kinda guy. So he decided to wear a t-shirt with a badly printed image of a tuxedo on it's front. Standing there in the ridiculous shirt, a bouquet of probably stolen roses in hand, bending onto one knee while you teared up. Presenting a ring from a little white box, a simple gold wedding band. Gems and diamonds too gaudy for him, he preferred something more simple. Not wanting to ruin the moment, he didn't admit to stealing the thing but he didn't deny it either. You instantly said yes the second he finished up a monologue about the power of love, bees, codes, and you. 

You wore the band above Toby's. Once Tim coughed up a ring, you'd put his atop Brian's. Three rings, one finger. It looked kinda dumb but you liked it and were excited for the next ring. The next reading of a wedding officiant speech off of Google, the next set of tearful _'I do'_ s.

"Fine." He didn't look satisfied with that answer as you sat upon his lap, thighs on either side of him and his arms around your back, "He's still prissy." You recalled how he acted in the earlier entries of Marble Hornets, the very few that you saw.

He cracked a small smile at the jab, "He hasn't changed at all." It could be mistaken for the wistful yearning for an ex but Brian hated Alex's guts more than anything. It was more of an underhanded insult.

Though you knew he was still anxious over Alex, "It'll be alright. I won't let him place a single fucking finger on my pretty little head."

"You better not." He sighed, melting into you and resting his head in the crook of your neck. Just wanting a moment to cuddle and be reaffirmed that it was going to be okay.

Things were never going to be completely okay. None of you would ever fully get the affects of everything that happened to you. **His** influence had an overwhelming impact on all of you. But things were on the upswing even if there was always was a sense of looming danger above your heads. Even with that you persevered. 

First buying the dinky little car, living in it for the longest time. You and Tim working as many shifts as possible to afford an apartment while Toby and Brian scoured for an apartment to accommodate all of you. Despite rent being cheaper than other units, it was still hard as fuck to save enough money to be sure that you could make rent steadily for awhile. There was also food, toiletries, medication to pay for, it was a lengthy process.

Though things weren't the best between you two during that period, when you got a job you were heavily rewarded. Brian ate you out in the back of the car while the others were getting groceries. Just the two of you in the back of a rickety car, under the ambiance of the rain, in a dark Tesco parking lot. It was a great memory. 

He blew a hot stream of air into your ear, loosening his grip on your waist so you could get off of him. Before he let you go, his hands traveled down to your outer thighs, lightly squeezing the clothed flesh before quietly purring in your ear, "I'm going to tie you up on Wednesday night and make you beg for every little thing."

Tensing excitedly, flushing, you quickly retorted, happy with the idea, "Oh shut up." Playfully smacking his chest as he snickered, releasing you. "I'm not going to beg." You said, knowing you were going to beg.

"Uh-huh," He hummed cockily, "We'll see."

The two of you placed a sweet peck on one another's lips, exchanging soft _'I love you'_ s before Brian switched the stream back on. The chat had unanimously decided on _'The Room'_ by Tommy Wiseau. Known as the worst movie of all time. There were a few suggestions of _'Shrek'_ mixed in there as well but most people went with the former.

The chat went ape-shit when Brian and you were back on screen. Smiling as poggers flooded the chat as well as people sweetly greeting you both. The survivors in the game he was playing were still there, tea-bagging and running around in circles. You were going to open your mouth before the door to Brian's room further opened, "You guys decide on the movie or what?"

"Oh, hi Tim." You waved, glad that he made it back in one piece. No black eyes this time or bullet holes in his dress. The people in the chat were all spamming the ever loving shit out of the custom ' _stinky pog'_ emote. It was just poggers as Tim with little stink lines above him. His nickname was stinky, of course. One time you called him stinky while watching Brian play, him having come in after vaping outside. Toby jumped on calling him stinky and so did the chat.

"We decided on The Room." Brian informed, glancing over his shoulder with a giant grin.

Tim nodded before taking notice of Brian's stupid smile, "Are they fuckin' calling me stinky again?" You cackled as he continued, " _I don't smell!"_

Toby sauntered on in after him, "I made some popcorn, it's kinda buh-burnt. Sssuh-sorry."

"You're fine." You dismissed casually, standing up straight, still chuckling at Tim.

"Oh!" He caught on immediately, smiling mischievously, "Are we making fu-fun of ssstuh-stinky again?"

Tim playfully blew a gasket, "I'm _not_ stinky! Beeboy!" He snapped out Brian's designated nickname with joyful disdain, "Tell them to stop fuckin'," He made air quotes, _"'Stinky pogging'_ me!"

The chat did not cease. Brian cutely giggling, turning to his webcam, "Stinky pog him." The chat went even more wild. Some rat emotes thrown in there at Toby's appearance. Of course he was known as rat. People liked Toby a lot, he was erratic and entertaining. Brian's platform also exposed his art to a lot of potential customers, the two worked well together.

It went on for some time, until the survivors in Brian's game got bored and decided to escape. Tim fakely angry but laughing along with all of you. 

"Alright, alright." Brian calmed his soft laughter down, "Ending the stream a bit early." There were expressions of mild sadness but mostly ones telling him to enjoy his night, "Goodnight." His outro for ending streams was quick and to the point.

With the stream finally shut off, Brian pushed himself up and the lot of you headed to the living room where Toby had sent out the more than just slightly burnt popcorn. On the way you said in a way too loud whisper, "You smell like a middle school bathroom."

"Baby wipes." He corrected in the same tone.

"I do-don't know what you guys are tuh-talking about but I agree with (Y/n)." Toby interjected, throwing himself on the couch as Brian set up your bargain bin laptop up to the old television. Provided graciously by your landlord. Mostly because he didn't know what to do with a janky television that got blood splattered on it. Brian knew how to pirate almost any movie, once he hooked up the wires of your laptop to the television and gave him a few minutes, you'd all be set.

Tim scoffed while Brian searched the web, perching on the couch quietly and pulling his legs up comfortably, "I think he smells like baby wipes."

"Hah!" Tim sat on the side opposite to Toby, you stood waiting. "Brian says I smell like baby wipes, so it's true!" 

Brian pulled up the movie, pressing play and sitting himself in the middle of the couch. As you casually laid across their laps, them leaning on one another in one big cuddle pile, you joked, "Brian one time said that seven times seven is forty-eight."

"He was one number off!" Tim valiantly defended.

"Ssstuh-still got it wrong though." Toby loved Brian but he had a tendency to take your side on playful arguments between all of you. Goober padded into the room with a wagging tail, walking in circles a few times before laying in front of the televisions blue-ish glow. "He can be wruh-wrong ssss-sometimes."

"Ugh." Tim dismissed, relaxing into the couch. 

Brian shrugged with an amused huff, "I can be wrong sometimes though. Maybe you _do_ smell like a middle school bathroom, Stinky."

Tim practically hissed in offense as Toby cackled, "He's right on th-that one! Right (Y/n)?" 

You smiled up at their three faces, softly lit as the movie began. Love swirling heavy in your chest, sometimes it made you feel like you were spilling your guts. You couldn't help but open your big mouth, for once not saying something sarcastic or as a joke, _"God, I love you guys so much."_

Danger was something that would never completely go away. Your past sins would follow you to the grave but unlike how you thought you'd turn out all those years ago, you weren't going to the grave alone. It added an oddly exciting spice to your lives, none of you could ever be fully normal and you were all used to a bit of danger. It'd be weird if things suddenly went smooth for all of you. Although, danger was cool and all, being a little bit normal-ish was great, this was your favorite part; the soft moments in between workdays and fights for your life in empty parking lots. You wouldn't trade precious moments like these for the motherfucking world.

_**\----** _

__ **Well, yee-fucking-haw fellas. Spill Your Guts has officially met its end and as the authors, we'd like to issue a very heartfelt thank you, for the kudos, sweet comments, support, simply reading in the first place. This was our first time posting something like this online and we're glad it got so much positive reception. We never saw it getting this long! A lot of the fic was made up as we went along, in all honesty. But! I'm glad that we did as we're very proud of the story that we told and that it resonated with people and made a lot of y'all happy.**

**Most chapters are twenty pages or longer. Twenty page chapters (7k-8k words I think??) take on average seven to nine hours to complete. This fic took us hundreds upon hundreds of hours to complete so we're glad that so many people took the time to read and comment. This was also written in the span of a little over two months. Summer quarantine 2020, baby!**

**We do have another fic that we'll be porting to Ao3 soon. It is an Eyeless Jack, Jane The Killer, and Clockwork X Reader titled The Hunt Is On. It's a plot heavy slow burn. It may sound like an odd bunch of characters but we have a lot of very fun plans for the fic. So keep your eyeballs peeled in the coming days if you're interested in seeing those characters developed/like what we do/just wanna smash 'em. If you don't want to wait there are currently 26 chapters/586 pages up on Quotev with more to come. Note that it is actually somewhat of a sequel to SYG. Set a few years after in the same universe. The SYG crew won't be making any big features but this fic will be tying up a loose end we left open. What that is you'll have to read to find out. https://www.quotev.com/story/12945584/The-Hunt-Is-On/1**

**If you want more of the boys, we have another fic about them. Yes, it's an X reader. Titled: You'll Catch Your Death. It is not a sequel or continuation of SYG. Separate universe, different takes on the boys. In this fic they'll be a lot darker. It's also up on Quotev with 9 chapters out/240 pages. It is somewhat of a crime drama with a lot of elements of psychological horror. Think paranoia, a violent downward spiral, and lots of cannibalism. https://www.quotev.com/story/13010513/Youll-Catch-Your-Death/1**

**As we know reading this absolute monster that's honestly the length of a fucking novel takes an ass-load of time, we'd like to say again, thank you.**

**If you have any questions for us, feel free to comment or message us. Have a wonderful morning/day/night! <3 <3 <3**


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